For Show
by StolenCompass
Summary: For young Sebastian and Santana, living the good life since birth had been good. But when both their families agree on turning their lives around by fixed marriage, things got bad. Especially if you're marrying your sworn enemy.
1. Parks are for Fun

It was bright and sunny, very much a strolling day and young Santana would rather spend this day with someone else rather than with the person she was with that day. She tried so hard so as not to spare him a glance, or if she would, she would probably shoot him killing daggers or spit something insulting. But, not with Ulysses around.

Her bodyguard was as loyal to her as to her grandfather, and he would do anything the old man would spit. It's pretty scary though, because one time, the old man had to puke everywhere on the school gym because he was sick and Ulysses was the one who cleaned the litter up. A few students had to see that, but the bulky guard kept face.

Now, the old man clearly commanded that the muscled beast keep eye on the two 'lovers' from afar, but as much as he tried to conceal himself, that slim tree wasn't doing any favor for his huge body.

Sebastian wasn't in favor of this arrangement also, but he had to be there to impress his father. That was the point, yeah. But, he clearly didn't know that the granddaughter of the decaying multi-billionaire tycoon was a downright bitch. That was what he wasn't prepared for. He expected someone of a demure stature, someone so down to earth, because those girls were the ones he had met on his previous arrangements. Those girls were typical and very spoiled that they never or always complain.

He was used to those girls, but Santana was something different. She gets her way around everything even without the help of her parents or her super rich granddad. He was amused at first because his charms had never failed before, not with girls whose fantasies are those of prince charming in fairytales their nannies used to read to them in the absence of their rich parents. But then, his amusement fell into straight annoyance at her stubbornness because no matter how much he flirted with her, she was just as cold as a rock.

His annoyance suddenly fell to hatred when she first confessed to him her loathing for him the moment they first met. It was hate at first sight. He was wrong to look at her physically, because she is undoubtedly _very _beautiful in terms of appearance, but her heart, it was ripped right off of the ice queen's chest and transplanted to hers.

Her face was carved out of heaven, but her eyes were fiery and seductive. Those were her assets, something he would have fallen for if she wasn't such a bitch after all. Her body wasn't so bad either. No, not at all. Those curves would seduce any guy at first glance; he was even caught staring at her during the party.

He does not look so bad either. His hair, he somehow kept it short because of the humid weather, was always in perfect condition. The wind could not tousle it, nor move it an inch. His eyes were his best weapon when it comes to flirtatiously approaching women. Countless girls had said that his eyes are so expressive, that the sea-green orbs are captivating. He took pride in them just as he takes pride in his voice and acting.

The big surprise came when Sebastian Smythe's father announced to the whole of the hundred and forty guests that night that he and the older Lopez tycoon had agreed to wed their heirs for a greater empire.

The announcement was made just as they were bickering and insulting each other as if they had known each other before, and their smiles were as fake as the boob lady down at the bar, but those were enough to make the people cheer them on.

One even commented, "You two look really good together."

When he came down to whisper to his son that they would be staying at the Lopez manor for a month to plan things and arrangements, he never thought his blood could boil at such temperature. But he kept face and nodded in false agreement. He watched as the Latina leaned forward towards her grandfather to listen to the same announcement, seeing that it had the same effect on her because her eyes found his in a glaring contest.

Somehow, even behind the hatred, they had to become obvious puppets of the higher deciding authorities, which are their parents. So they decided to work out a plan to paint a picture that they actually like each other, fake a relationship and make them believe that they are in love and then, after a quick marriage, they would split up but still continue whatever empire they had built. It was easy planning, but the execution would take a little getting used to.

And so, as part of their plan, they were to pretend that they were going out that day. So far, they were not doing impressively. There was a good five inch distance between them on the bench and they were not even looking at each other. She was dressed very appropriately; that sun dress was working its way on her, making her look like some innocent girl. Her glorious hair was down and it cradled and caressed her face in all the right places.

He, on the other hand, didn't even bother to dress up. His gray beanie kept his hair under control and his white V-neck tee was fine partnered with his worn out jeans. He did not look expensive at all, not so much as what he would look like in parties and dinner balls.

Sighing, he decided to make a move. He wouldn't waste a day like this without even impressing anyone. The people walking around this park are prestigious people who either know or _would _probably know them sooner or later.

He moved and connected their hips, making the contact known to her by creating a slight impact. She gasped in surprise and shot him a look.

He said in a whisper, "We have to make _this _believable if you want people to buy it. You, apparently, are not helping."

She chuckled in a condescending tone before a mischievous smile crept up her lips. He narrowed his eyes at this and furrowed his brows.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, "Kiss you?"

That was when he mirrored her smirk. "I dare you. They would totally buy that. Besides, that big man over there by the tree would probably be impressed and tell your granddaddy. Extra points for you, darling."

He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He purposefully breathed on her face through his mouth, letting his scent waft around her.

"What would I get in return?" she asked, batting her lashes at him. In her mind, she could not stomach how sickening this looked.

"Well," he said, a fake thoughtfulness in his tone, "if kissing one Sebastian Smythe isn't enough, I can offer you a hundred."

She perked a brow, "Five hundred, _darling_. I ain't that cheap."

He mirrored her action with his own eyebrow, "Alright, but it has got to get to your old daddy or it's not on."

She eyed the man still behind the slim tree and her devious smile widened. "Oh, it will definitely reach him. Ulysses is a real good observer, just like everybody in this park."

His mouth shut and his eyes got darker, his line of sight traveled from her lips to her eyes as if subtly asking for entrance or permission. Slowly getting closer, she was surprised because there was a light drumming fist on her leg.

They both pulled away, completely shocked to see a young blonde boy about five years in age, looking like he was lost. His bright blue eyes looked expectantly at both of them, one of his hands now in his mouth. He was wearing a dark red shirt that said 'Mama's Boy' in white print that was stained with what looked like blue marker that trailed down to his little khaki pants. At first, both of them were speechless, but it was Sebastian who gingerly picked the toddler up, a surprisingly _genuine _smile on his usually mischievous-looking face.

"Hey, buddy," he cooed, not even bothering that she was around. "Are you lost? What's your name?"

That voice that was coated with the sweet honey of seduction was transformed into something caring and real. It was like the child had brought down one of the many walls Sebastian had so laboriously put up. So, had she found his weakness?

The child now seated on his lap smiled and nodded. "James," he responded.

"Well, hello, James," he said, shaking the little one's hand. "My name is Sebastian—

"The crab? Little Mermaid? Do you sing?"

He laughed, and she was very surprised because it was like the first time she had heard him laugh without a condescending tone in it or an insult to follow. His eyes, they sparkle as they looked at the kid.

"I do sing," he answered, tickling him. The kid's laugh was followed with his own and she sat there, stunned. She admits to what Brittany had said before: that guys with kids are extremely attractive; though Sebastian with a kid is just plain surprising.

Then, the child averted his attention to her.

He smiled weakly and said, "Hi there."

She could not help but smile in return and answer his greeting. There's something in this cherubic little thing that made her smile, too. Then, she shot Sebastian a look that said, 'What the hell are you doing?'

"That's Santana," he said to the kid, but looking directly at her. "She eats little kids—

"But, she's pretty!" the kid said, taking Sebastian's clean shaven face in his hands. "Pretty girls don't eat kids."

The young man laughed at this and tickled the little one again. This is getting ridiculously… adorable. _No, Santana, you cannot think like that._

"You're handsome, she's pretty," the kid pointed at them, "do you _love_ each other?"

She watched as the rich boy's eyes widened slightly at this question as she inhaled in surprise. She would have laughed, but she couldn't. Instead, she was dumbfounded and petrified.

Even _he _was struck with the question from the toddler. He gave her a lingering gaze, and then looked away. Sure, the Latina is perpetually beautiful and very talented. And the bitchy personality was not all that he could see, apparently. He secretly admired how she stands up for her friends as they were not that favored by her parents. He also liked how dedicated she is to her little club at school. She may have crossed his mind a few times (a couple of times that morning, once during lunch when she strolled by and she lingered in his brain just that day), but he did not like her.

He, on the other hand, was as equally talented as her, she might not admit. But, she was struck by how caring he is to his family. He may not admit it, but his father once told her that he stayed in France for two years to take care of his dying grandmother. But, they were supposed to be enemies; they were **meant **to be enemies.

"Do you love each other?" the child urged, looking at both of them with soulful eyes.

Sebastian ran his tongue along his bottom lip and smiled, "Yes, we love each other."

_Oh, _she thought. _This is for show, right? Yes, it is. _So she smiled back at the kid and at Sebastian.

James clapped his hands a couple of times, "My mommy and daddy love each other, too, and they kiss all the time. In here," and he pointed to his lips. "They love each other and they love me."

"That's what people do when they love each other," said Sebastian. "They show their love."

The kid nodded enthusiastically, "Santana loves you."

He smiled at her and she could not point out exactly where the acting is, but she should feel it after a few moments, she was sure.

"I… love her, too," he said to the kid, not even sparing a glance at her direction. It was as if he was coyly hiding something—an emotion, maybe—behind his eyes.

There was a pause like the kid was actually put on _pause_, maybe contemplating on whether to look at Sebastian as a singing crab or as a hobo-slash-goon, Santana thought. Then, James looked at both of them again and smiled.

"Kiss her?"

Her jaw dropped. _Here we go again_, she thought. She tried to hide the look that her face had just made, but the kid just looked so innocent and honest that she may have believed him a little bit when he said that the spoiled brat loved her.

She was shocked, to say the least, when she snapped her head towards _his _direction because he had just instantly moved so that their faces were just a mere inch away. She was totally caught off guard when he smiled at her a reassuring smile before pecking her lips. At the feel of her lips on his even for just that short, the smile he had sported dropped into a confused frown. He licked his lips subconsciously and dropped his gaze at hers. He leaned in for another one, and Santana's heart literally jumped and then _froze_.

It was supposed to last for just a fraction of a second, but his lips lingered for who knows how many seconds. He was unmoving at first, but he started taking her lower lip in between his.

She might not admit it for anything at all, but she was starting to enjoy the feeling of his tender lips against hers. Her eyes instinctively shut as did her thoughts and her mind.

But she had to come back to reality…

So she pulled away, earning a ghost of disappointment on his face. She watched as he averted his attention to the toddler he was still cradling on his lap, sporting a smile.

"See?" he spoke, his voice a little rasp. "I love Santana."

It would not be such a sin to admit to herself that his taste would be running around in her mind now that she had experienced it, would it? Because she would never be caught dead saying that to someone else.

James had his little mouth in a wide grin that showed his rather imperfect rows of teeth. He was giggling and wrapping his arms around Sebastian's neck and hugging him. He was so little that the older man could crush him, but he put his long arms around the boy's torso and gently squeezed him.

"Oh my God, James!" a female voice cut through the noise of the park. "James, baby! I've been everywhere looking for you!"

Both of them looked ahead to see a brunette lady jogging towards them. It was only a matter of time before the toddler recognized the voice and came running towards the source of it, screaming, "Mommy!"

The woman smiled and lifted the young boy, spinning him around. She watched as Sebastian's lips broke into a grin that crinkled his eyes.

The lady looked like she was about thirty, her brunette hair tied up in a bun, her body clad in semi-tight sports attire and looked like she had been jogging.

The lady walked towards them saying, "Oh my God, did my son bother you two? I'm so sorry!"

"No, no," Sebastian responded, shaking his head with that same grin. "We were having fun. He's really adorable."

"Oh my," the lady exclaimed, "I know you, you're one of the Smythe? And you're Santana Lopez? My husband was in one of your dinners. Congratulations, you two."

Santana opened her mouth to reply, but somehow no sound came out. The world knows about their arrangement now, he thought.

"Thank you," Sebastian replied, nodding at her.

"We'll just go now," she said, pointing at the direction she came from, and setting down little James. "Come on now."

But the kid was frozen where he stood, looking at both of them with one of his hands in his mouth again.

"Mommy!" he said. "I want to say bye-bye."

He trotted towards them again, a coy smile on his angelic face. "Bye-bye, Sebastian!" he said, lifting his chin and inviting the young man for a kiss on the cheek. He obediently bent forward from where he was sitting, looking really… adorable… with that scrunched up face.

Then, he took a few steps towards Santana and said, "Bye-bye, Santana!" doing the same with her as he did Sebastian.

The next thing they know, he was being ushered away by his smiling mother. Still staring at them, they both caught the little wave he gave when he turned his head towards them again. They both waved back, and when they set their hands on the bench once again, Sebastian's was on top of hers.

Now, there could have been two scenarios. One is Santana pulling her hand from underneath his enormous one and slapping him on the shoulder; she would definitely slap his face, but her hate would be too obvious. And two, stay still and sell the show.

Believe it or not, she picked the latter. They stayed like that in silence, and then he spoke.

"Better sell this out," he said, closing the distance between them with a kiss again. This time, his hand found her cheek and pulled her closer.

_What the f—_

Her eyes closed again, just like before, to shut her sight so that she could revel on the taste of his tongue on hers, so that she could feel the heat of his lips on hers. She could have made the kiss as short as possible, but she couldn't because he was too enticing and the sly breath that escaped his mouth as he tried so hard not to make a sound of pleasure was—maybe—too hot.

He wouldn't admit this to anyone for anything, but the mere feeling of her closeness was enough to get him heated up. His breathing had hitched that moment their hips connected just about moments ago, but he was keen enough not to let her know that. Her voice, it may have spat at him some demeaning insults, but if anyone tunes out the words, it is very melodic. He had heard her sing and he could listen to her all day if it was possible. Not that he'd admit to all of these thoughts to anyone else. Even his close friends know how much he loathes the bitch.

She was very… lost in this activity they were engaged in. She could not even think straight. All she could revel in her mind was how, in the past few days, he seemed to linger in her mind more frequently. Before, it was only because his eyes would meet hers in a death glare or because they would be caught in between people that they would have to put on shows, but would end up bantering. Then, it became occasional because, at night, her mind would map out incoherent thoughts then it would suddenly bring up a memory of them fighting with words and it would immediately—though subconsciously—bring a smile to her lips.

They both had to come up for oxygen, but when they did, he rested his forehead against hers. It was the most inappropriate thing but she let him, because her excuse was that it was still for show. That was all this was, neither anything more nor anything else. So, she secretly wished her stomach acids would kill all those fluttering butterflies and she secretly hoped the heat spreading through her like wildfire would go unnoticed.

His eyes never let go of her lips as if glancing away would make it disappear. The ghosting of her breath, that sweet smell of cinnamon, a slight tinge of vanilla and a hint of vodka to press on her rebellion will haunt him even more now than ever.

He grumbles, and she picked out only the words 'Let's go' and 'hate' because he was so out of breath. He stood and breathed in before letting it out in one long breath.

Running his tongue over his already damp lips, he turned to look at Santana who was still perplexed and probably confused. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"I said 'let's go, I hate it when I don't get my coffee on time'," he harshly commanded. His tone would have hurt somebody else, but with the way he grabbed her hand like it was something fragile, she was quietly surprised.

There was something in her eyes, he noticed, when he stared into them. He could say he saw a glint of deviousness and fire, but there was something else. It would probably bug him for days knowing that the enemy, that Santana Lopez, who once was someone of his familiarity because of their similarities, was then someone different all of a sudden.

They entered the coffee shop with Ulysses hot on their trail. He was even trying those ninja moves where the ninja goes and hides behind things when she turns around. It was quite funny actually that Sebastian caught her laughing.

A side of his mouth curved into a half-smile, "Should we tell him that _that _trash bin is too small for him?"

That statement extracted more laughter from the beautiful Latina and he was thoroughly surprised with how his heart jumped at the sound. He could not help but let a small chuckle escape him, not because he thought this was ridiculous, but because he thought her laughter is very contagious.

They were like that all day until they came home and they went back to normal, with her stomping on his foot in a vicious manner. The pain made him cry out, but it wasn't what hurt him. He didn't really know why, but seeing her strut away from him as they arrived at the second floor of the manor made him clench his jaw and his fists. He tried so hard to pry his eyes away from her, and he successfully managed but he was silently wishing the day to be shorter now that the show had dropped.


	2. Hit and Run

_**Thank you so much for the reviews. I hope you like this chapter. Please review and voice out whatever you like or don't like about this story. **_

_I hope I satisfy you. And yeah, we're about to see three new Glee characters in this chapter, two Warblers and one other New Direction members._

* * *

_He ran until his muscles could not move anymore._

_He ran because he wanted to get away from everything. He ran, and as he traveled through the cold late night breeze, he shuddered because he was stupid. All of these, this thing he had with her was getting to his nerves and he could not take it. He ran until he could not think straight, because he had not been thinking straight these past few days. He hated himself partly, but he hated her more. This is her fault. All her fault._

_A slight frown crept up on his face as he remembered. _He was not supposed to remember_. But he did._

They continued like that for days, putting up quite impressive acts in front of everybody and then returning to their old selves once the show is done for the day. And every time it ended, he would find himself trying to block the simple shudder that escapes his system.

But the kiss, it never happened again.

And as much as he tried to hide it, to not think about it, his mind would scream every time he would remember that day at the park. He would be caught groaning and mumbling obscenities in French, and then he would bury his face in his palms.

It frustrated him, but what irked him most was that she seemed unfazed by it, very much unlike he was. He would never admit it even under the barrel of a gun that all he ever thought about that week was her. She dominated his mind. He hated it. Every single second of thinking about her made him throw something at his door or snap at someone.

His friends would notice it and comment on it, making it even worse than it already is.

"Sebby's in a fit again," said Nick Duval, one of his school mates back in high school, as if he wasn't in the picture. He fixed his already prepped up jet black hair and elbowed his tall blonde friend.

They were sitting in the same coffee shop where he and the bitch had gone to last week to get coffee. It was unnerving, and what's more unnerving were his two friends who had now made their jobs to make Sebastian feel worse by noticing how agile and exhilarated he was.

Jeff Sterling, the tall blonde friend, smirked and said just as loudly, "I bet you fifty that I can catch whatever he throws this way."

Nick laughed and said, "Oh you're on."

Sebastian, who wasn't oblivious to their conversation, grabbed a blunt toothpick and threw it at Jeff who flinched as it hit the middle of his forehead.

The blonde boy fished out the fifty from his pocket and handed it to an outreached hand whose owner was laughing his head off while staring at the pricked red mark on his friend's forehead.

A frown pasted its way on Jeff's boyish face as Nick leaned forward to look seriously at Sebastian. "Come on, Sebastian. What's up with you? Is New York boring you?"

He lifted his eyes from the newspaper he was reading, whose headline was apparently about _their_ impending nuptials, only to glare and huff at his caring friend.

"Well, the last time I saw you get this crazy was when Amber back in France dumped you for a weed smoker," Jeff chimed, his careless thoughts making their way to Nick's sharper intellect.

"Wait, is it about some girl?" asked Nick, his face now a mix of a smile and astonishment.

Yes, the last time he had become this _crazy _was when Amber Amore dumped him for some pothead in France. He did not take it lightly; he did not take his friends' advice to just let it go. He was literally crazy for a week and his friends had to suffer through it, too. He became a shut out from the world, and damn, if anything was to blame, his being spoiled was high on the list. His heart broke because of a girl and being the rich boy who gets what he wants, he was undoubtedly frustrated by it.

But no, that wasn't the story. He _loved _the girl and she was his first heart break. Only his two close friends know that, no one else.

From that day on, he vowed to never let himself fall for another girl. That was always the promise. But Santana's not a girl. She's the devil herself. She's a soulless bitch whose appetite only gets satisfied with human limbs and flesh. She was not what he expected when his father told him that he's going to marry a rich man's granddaughter.

His silence made Nick's and Jeff's expectant eyes widen and knowing smiles enlarge.

Then, Nick raised his palms in a surrendering manner, saying, "I'm not gonna ask who—

"—I will!" Jeff cut, leaning towards Sebastian, who had now set the newspaper on top of the table separating him from his hyperactive buddies. "Who is it, Seb? Do we know her? Is she _hot_?"

Oh, she's very hot, alright. And as if on cue, the door chimes rang and in came Santana Lopez with her super dumb friend and another guy whose name escapes his memories. He pried his eyes away from the group that just came in, and both his friends followed where his gaze once was.

There, he blew it.

It was Jeff whose loud exclaim of triumph made Santana's eyes avert their attention from her friends to them. They were sitting five tables away from the counter where she and her little band of friends were ordering coffee. Sebastian bit his inner cheek hard enough to draw blood and kicked Jeff under the table. It made him writhe in pain.

He watched behind stone cold eyes as she returned her gaze to the woman on the counter with a quick smile before inviting her friends to sit at a table so far away from them.

Then, it was Nick's turn to make a statement. "Oh man, weren't you two supposed to stay in a fake relationship? I thought you didn't like her."

"Yeah, you loath her," Jeff chirped, getting over the shin kicking from a while ago. "You said she can burn in hell."

"I hate her," he replied, but that constant predicament seemed to have lost its meaning. Instead, his eyes focused again on the smiling girl far from them. "I hate her so much. She destroys everything in her path, she's a monster."

And could he just point out how glorious her eyes become when she smiles? Those beautifully hued brown orbs sparkle when light catches them. There's calmness and sweetness in them that makes the fiery and seductive glint disappear like they had never existed. No? Okay.

Nick sighed in thoughtfulness, "Yes, you're saying that because you want to convince yourself that you don't like her. But you're going to eat those words sooner or later when you realize that you do not at all."

This is Nicholas Duval, the most intelligent alien life form to ever walk on Earth. Clearly, if people weren't amused by his wits, they would be irritated by it. Sebastian was one of the latter at that current moment.

He furrowed his brows and glared at his friend. Jeff sensed what was coming, but Sebastian was already fuming before he could even speak.

"Don't go all 'understanding friend' on me," he exclaimed, gathering quite a few people's attention around them. "Because you don't understand me. No one does. You know what? This is shit!"

He grabbed his things and stormed his way out of the coffee shop, leaving Jeff and Nick looking at each other and Santana wondering what had happened over where they were sitting.

It wasn't like him to lose his cool, not at all. And he hated that talking about her sends him to the edge like Santana Lopez being the topic of the conversation makes him weak. **He is not weak**_**. **_Nor will he ever be weak. Sebastian Smythe will never bow down to anyone, not even if it's someone as vicious as the previously mentioned Latina.

Somehow, he found himself sitting in the Lopez manor's music room in which an upright piano was located.

He prided himself with many things, but one of the most boasted about was his talent in music. He picked up a guitar when he was ten, and with the help of one determined tutor, he was able to master it and do the learning on his own. Then, he was discovered as a talented singer when he signed up to audition for a school musical, that in which he fished the lead role effortlessly against other mediocre students.

Since then, he took music seriously, learning different instruments and signing up for musicals until his father noticed how deep he was into this. His father could have put it in a calmer manner, but the slap across the face was enough to pull him back to reality that a career in this industry will, most often than not, result to a downfall.

His fingers lingered on the black and white keys of the grand instrument. Taking a deep breath, he dug them and the sound filled the room.

_My heart was talking to my head  
Said "I've loved once,  
I'll never love again"  
And my head at this replied  
"I'll miss her too,  
she was easy on the eyes"_

He found it amazing how, two years after Amber, he was still feeling the same pain over and over again as if it was on replay. If he was to admit that he's weak, he would admit it to Amber's cool blue eyes. She would have taken him in her arms and… _fuck_, this isn't what he wanted.

_And now all they do  
Is look around for you  
And every night  
With their lids closed tight  
They are lost in dreams  
That they'll awake and see  
You lying next to me_

Every night, he would dream about that long blonde hair and that harmonious laugh. It would circulate in his brain during his sleep, but it would always disappear. He would always find himself trying to forget the recurring dream or just drowning himself in frustration. But that was weeks ago; this time someone else plagued his mind.

_My feet could feel it in their soles  
we've gone too far  
and we'll never make it home  
and these hands, they felt the same  
They held her once  
But they let her slip away_

It was her eyes that did it. Those weren't made to see. Her eyes were made to kill with those vicious glares and those seductive schemes. Those eyes were what held power over his entire being.

_If there's one thing I've learned  
It's how easy the tables turn  
And if there's one thing I know  
It's the fine art of letting go_

But, he's always like that. If it wasn't his own predicament, it would only be because of his personality that the girl had given up on him and went for a pothead who has better attitude than he could ever have. After that, he stopped trusting himself when time comes that a relationship starts to grow. Instead of letting people in on how foul he actually is, he pushes them away before they even get to that.

_My heart was talking to my head  
Said "I've loved once,  
I'll never love again"_

And he doubts that if he actually falls for one Santana Lopez, it would be the messiest he had ever been. And if he actually does, he would leave. Because that's who he is, he pushes people. Those who stick around, Jeff and Nick, they were just stubborn guys. Having been born with Sebastian Smythe could take a lot of getting used to, and they both were too used to it that they wouldn't mind.

And he's secretly grateful for that, but if any other person made their way into his world, he was sure he would instantly shut them out.

_And now all I do  
Is look around for you  
And every night  
With my eyes closed tight  
I'm lost in dreams  
That I'll awake and see  
You lying next to me_

There was silence as the last lyric left his mouth. That silence was broken when an elderly man stepped into the room, his wooden cane clicking on the tiled floor.

"Your father wasn't bluffing when he said that his son is a great singer," said the old Lopez. His eyes were hidden behind a crinkled smile. He made his way towards the center of the room to where the younger man sat.

Sebastian smiled in return and nodded in gratitude.

If Gustavo Lopez was known for anything, it would be his straightforwardness and his business minded work ethics. Right then, Sebastian was about to experience one of those, and hint: it would not be about ethics.

The old man looked him straight into the eyes, his smile fading. "I watched you grow, Sebastian. I watched as your father molded you into someone as sturdy and strong as you are right now."

There was a glint of seriousness and sheer business in his tone and his eyes as he added, "But you are not your father's son."

He suddenly found his voice and spoke. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Your father is a much focused man," Gustavo replied. "He gives his all to his work. That's why he is so successful and well-known. But, that made him cold and void, much like I am. When you were born, I already foresaw the rise of another Harrison Smythe. You resemble him so much that it is as if he's looking into a mirror.

"But then again, you are so much different."

"What are you trying to imply, sir?" he asked, trying to tune out the thought of resembling his father. Harrison Smythe is cold and cruel. He's distant and void of emotions, that it was just basically him and his mother. It just hurt him so much to think of someone who should have been there all this time, but was never there.

"What I am trying to say is that life is full of opportunities," the older man said. "But these chances would not be around forever. Better grab it before it disappears. You will only be young once."

With that, the old man gave him a smile and turned around. It was only the sound of the wooden cane hitting the floor fading that gave him the signal that he was already gone.

He regained his seat, his eyes unfocused and hazy. He had to say it, he was afraid. This whole trying to impress his dad, this whole arrangement, wasn't what he wanted in his life. Marrying someone against his will is… against his will.

But Gustavo Herrera Lopez knew more than the young Smythe knew. Gustavo knew that no matter how perfect the young man seemed to appear in front of others, he could see the broken boy in him. Gustavo also knew how this path that he seemed keen on taking, the career path that his father chose for him, was slowly turning him into someone as cold as his father. Even if he seemed alright with it, it was breaking him inside. The old man knew because he was once like him, and his father, too.

This thing that he's sporting, the 'I'm-okay-with-it' stance, will not be up for too long. Once he discovers that things won't always be 'alright', it would be too late to change ways. That's why the older man was on it the moment he discovered that he took the proposal to wed easily.

His granddaughter surprised him, too. He knew that he was not close to Santana at all and the mere arranged marriage was enough reason for her to hate him. But Gustavo had this gut feeling that she and Sebastian, with those same fiery eyes and heated attitudes, would probably click sooner or later. It was almost shocking how those two were alike. And besides, his granddaughter needed someone to step on her level to teach her things and Sebastian was the most likely perfect candidate.

Now, Gustavo Herrera Lopez is known for many things, but scheming was what he was famous for. He had taken down many companies by just a pen and papers. Let's just leave it at that.

Sebastian Smythe does not, and will never, do jealous. But it just so happened that as he returned to the coffee shop the next day, what he found was rather unnerving. Some guy was holding his _enemy_'s hand and making some sickeningly flirtatious eye contacts and moves. This tall, trout-mouthed blonde makes the most gag-inducing moves that as Sebastian's eyes ventured to where they were sitting alone, he could not help but roll his eyes in a perfectly practiced manner.

Although something in his memory bugged him even more. He had seen this blonde somewhere, but he could not point it out clearly.

Sure, the coffee shop was a little secluded from the knowing masses, but it was still a public place and those PDA's won't exactly help the lovey-dovey play both of them were staging. He had the urge to walk up to them and tell on Santana, but his feet could not bring him to it. They looked happy—she looked happy. It was as if that fact alone was enough to glue him to his seat.

Just looking at her made him shake in hate. Why was he even in that coffee shop alone?

Thinking this was a waste of time, he sighed and stormed out.

In the next few hours, he found himself drinking in a bar that he didn't even care to know the name of. He was trying to drown something unknown in his he—he was about to think of saying heart, but he remembered that he didn't have one.

He downed a bottle of beer and looked around the gyrating mix of guys and girls. He looked at them with disgust. He wasn't as fun-spirited as they are, but he just looked at those girls showing their bodies off to gather the attention they needed and he was ready to condemn this world.

The booming music set his chest on a stammering beat, and he could not help but scoff as the boom box blasted some pop music that set the crowd on the dance floor cheering and hooting. People nowadays don't have very good tastes in music.

It took him a well-rounded insult and a harsh look to shoo away the two girls who walked up to him and flirtatiously handed him their numbers.

He glanced at them with an evil smirk. It wasn't his intention for his eyes to wander, but as they did, he caught sight of the same blonde boy from earlier, sucking another blonde girl's face. He tried to get a good look, and when he did get it as the boy pulled away for air, he was ready to punch the guy in the face and bury his fists in that huge mouth of his.

He remembered how sickening the blonde and Santana were just a few hours ago and this thought was enough to make him hate the cheating bastard. He remembered how wide the girl's smile was and it sent him to the edge.

He walked over to him as the girl he was kissing left for something he would not care about. He did not hesitate and buried a burning fist right on his nose. The pain on his knuckles was nothing compared to the triumph of the guy's bleeding nose. The man thumbed the skin under his nose and checked that it was really emitting blood.

He then looked at Sebastian with fire in his eyes. Needless to say, it ended up in a fist fight and him gaining a bruised cheek, a busted lip and burning knuckles. The huge and burly bar bouncers were keen on banning both of them from the place and sending them away.

He got to the Lopez manor just in time to find Santana sitting in the living room watching something on the TV. She was in a tight-hugging shirt and very short shorts that showed off her long legs. On her lap was Tuber, her small golden retriever.

But Sebastian wasn't in the mood to pester the girl at that moment. Instead, he was trying not to get noticed as he ventured at the back of the couch.

Too late, though, as Tuber found his way to him to head-butt his knee. Santana chased the dog, but ended up looking at him with confusion in her eyes.

His frown reached the floor because his heart stammered at the sight of pure concern in her face.

He knew she was supposed to ask what happened, but she ran straight to the other way and disappeared into the kitchen. _Maybe she didn't really care,_ he thought.

He was about to make his way up to his room when her voice called out, "Stay right there, Smythe."

He was surprised by himself when he actually complied with what she said. After a few more seconds, she reappeared with a first aid kit and an ice pack. He eyed her with confusion as she motioned for him to sit on the same couch she came from a while ago. He did comply with her again because her eyes and her silent demeanor were enticing.

She plopped down moments after he did, her elegant hair bouncing around her face. She took his face in her hands, her touch electrifying his nerves. She must have sensed the sudden jump because her mouth formed a grin. He had to look away for her not to see him get agitated.

"I thought you hated me," he said quietly, not really knowing why since they were alone in the ground floor. It was only the sound of the television that was disrupting the rather silent environment.

She touched the bruise on his right cheek a little bit harder than proper and her grin turned into a smirk. "I do," she said. "But I don't want my future husband looking smashed by tomorrow."

His brows perched up, "Tomorrow?"

She leveled her gaze to look at his eyes and said, "We have an interview tomorrow afternoon for some magazine. Hopefully, your bruises would be alright to be covered with make-up by then."

He could only snort in reply as she dabbed some cotton with whatever the hell liquid she shook from a bottle. Soon enough, the piece of cotton made contact with the open cut on his face and all he could do was hiss at the immediate pain it caused.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, gritting his teeth at the persistent, searing pain. His hand found his cheek as if touching it would soothe the sharp pain. Instead of soothing it, Santana found the torn skin of his knuckles and she took his hand in hers.

_Shoot_, he thought as his heart beat skyrocketed at her action.

"Your dad would be very proud of this," she said, but the sarcasm was barely there. Her eyes never left his hand. She was caressing the skin in between his knuckles with her thumb and it wasn't doing him any good. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"Some asshole got into my nerves," he said, trying to be as brief with the description as he could.

"And you just punched him?" she asked, tending the wounds with some other painless liquid. He was secretly thankful for that.

"So what?" he said, but the sharpness of his tone was barely present. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the slight quaking of his insides as her touch got into his nerves in _a different way_. Either way, he was not in a good mood to banter. His head was basically a mess and the only solution he could think of to get rid of it was a long sleep.

He blamed it on the alcohol when his mind wandered to when he and Amber were walking through some park back at France and how his fingers thread in between hers easily. Then, without thought, he slowly slipped his fingers through Santana's slender ones.

She was petrified and terrified, he could tell, because her eyes were anywhere but his. But he continued because he was feeling the need to feel something again and this would not result well in the morning so he would just blame it on the alcohol.

His other hand reached out to touch her chin, and it was what brought her eyes back up to his. There it was again, the confusion and the illusion that this was because _he was drunk_. He could feel her breath on his arm.

He was painfully slow as he inched towards her unmoving form, and she was as slow as him as she backed away.

He could see it, too; the battle that was going on in her mind. This is all so wrong. This isn't what they both wanted. They were sworn enemies, and they even pledged to kill one another after this was done. He swore he could see a flash of desire in her eyes—

Her eyes were so beautiful under the glistening light of the chandelier above. He could stare at them all day if it was possible. They were challenging and unusual.

Their hands were still intertwined and she seemed unbothered by it. He was silently thankful for that, but she was still hesitant. He knew the reason why. It's because he's the enemy and this display of intimacy was not for a private moment. These acts were supposed to be public. They were _supposed _to be seen in public. She should not enjoy this. No, not at all.

But, as his lips meet hers in heated passion, all thoughts seemed to have vanished away. It was hard not to cry out when he intended to bite her bottom lip in a request for entrance. She would definitely beat herself up in the morning, then Sebastian, but she allowed him to take over.

It was when his hand ghosted over the exposed skin revealed by her small shirt that she realized how wrong it was; that he was drunk and was not in his right mind. It took everything she had to put a stop to all of this because his lips were intoxicating and his tongue was madly talented.

Her hand found its way to his chest, shoving him gently to let him know that she's not alright with this. When he finally pulled away, her eyes stayed closed as if to savor the lingering feeling. And when she opened them, Sebastian was already sitting upright and releasing their tangled hands. There was a distant look in his eyes as he bit the inside of his cheek.

This time, he had done it.

"Go up and sleep," she ordered, not even looking at him. "You're drunk and I'm not falling for that."

He instantly got up to obey and walked upstairs, leaving the girl petting the dog who had redeemed its seat with the young man gone.

This would not result well in the morning.

He tossed and turned after getting about two hours of light sleep. The first thing he checked was the digital clock on his bed side reading _2:34 AM_. He sighed and turned over, the memories of the previous hours bringing a bitter feeling in his stomach.

He was just as confused as she is and those memories running around in his mind weren't helping the least. He licked his lips, trying to forget how she tasted. She's very rare, her tongue, her eyes, her lips, her body, her attitude. She's one of a kind, and they're two of the same kind. Both of them are stubborn and bound to their words.

And this is the reason why he hates her. She's being a bitch at one time, and then being this caring girl at another. She's like a roller coaster with no bounds, and she plays her games well. This unpredictability gives him the impression that he's weak and powerless around her.

This time, he could see his walls crumbling as he realized that this was The Amber Amore Scene again before it even started. He cursed as his attempt to find sleep failed.

He got up and slipped on his running shoes.

_So he ran until sunrise. His mind still wasn't fixed, and nor his heart. It was already five in the morning and he's bound home, but he didn't know if it's even alright to step foot on that place. It would crush him more to see her._


	3. Birds and Stones

_Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews and the alerts. These give me the fuel to write. BTW, sorry if this chapter sucks. I was in a state of social deprivation, meaning I was grounded. _

_If you find this chapter rather suck-y, please do tell. I would love the criticism, but please be nice about it. Thank you!_

* * *

It was easy returning home without anyone seeing him. That would be a big problem, though, if anyone saw him because his still unhealed callouses would arouse the most obvious questions. He caught his own reflection in a huge ass mirror on the hallway and saw how bad he looked.

Besides the almost-lightened bruise on his cheekbone and the less-swollen lip, his eyes were deep and dark. A frown was glued to his face as if getting rid of it would mean wiping his face off. He was breathing heavily and his forehead was covered with sweat. His shirt was clinging to his body and his muscles were twitching. His fists were clenched and so was his jaw.

Is this the person everyone had seen yesterday?

He swallowed and cleared his mind, although clearing his mind meant that the memories from last night were coming back to life in his head.

She wasn't in her right mind either. All of these would have gone better if she had the mind to stop what had happened. She was an idiot for letting _him _dominate her subconscious every so often. And then, Sam Evans came.

Sam was the perfect guy, handsome and tall, a born gentleman and gives all his focus on Santana. They were good friends back in high school, so getting along was not a problem. When Sam confessed his interest in her, she was eager to let him in. The arrangement between her and the enemy had not left her mind, but couldn't she be just normal for once?

Sam had reminded her of her normal self; that having a boyfriend that was not arranged for her was as normal as it could ever get. She liked the feeling of not caring whether people see them or not, whether people know them or not. Needless to say, she thinks she was falling fast for the guy.

Sure, Sam Evans may be expensive, too. His family owned a lot of hotels in Los Angeles and some casinos in Las Vegas, but he did not seem like it. He was down to earth and really modest about their riches. Maybe that's one thing that made her feel at ease when she's with the guy.

The next morning was nothing but avoiding glances and occasional talking. None of the usual banter and bicker, and Ulysses, who was always keeping an eye on both of them, noticed. Now, it wasn't his business to meddle with whatever those two were doing, but having watched Santana grow, he probably know her more than her parents would.

Ulysses was always calm and collected. He was always the silent type; his occasional talk about her safety was alright with Santana as long as he is there. The girl always found solace in the guard's company although they don't talk that much she thinks he knows her more than anyone.

So, when he sat down with her on the bench in the manor's backyard, she knew something was up. They sat in silence, her waiting for the man to speak up.

She surveyed him, his dark hair streaked with silver as a sign of his aging. He had been with the family for thirty years now, even before her parents were married and his loyalty to this whirlwind of a clan surprises her more often than not. Being in a dysfunctional and demanding family could drain whatever patience anyone was holding rather quickly.

"Be honest with me, Santana," the older man said in a serious tone. "Is this what you wanted?"

"'This' being?" she asked, but she already knew what he meant.

Ulysses sighed and said, "This arrangement that your grandfather made for you. I always thought you would fight back. You are you after all. I was just waiting, thinking you are waiting for the right timing to strike back. Are you afraid, Santana?"

She looked far away towards the tree-lined concrete wall that separates the Lopez's property from the world.

When she didn't respond, the man continued, "In a few years, you would be living a life on your own and making decisions. And then, you would realize that the decisions you have made during this time was just as important as any other choices you've chosen. Your father hadn't realized that until he was old enough to regret."

"I'm just confused," she admitted. "I want to be happy, but I also want my family to be proud of me. For once, I want them to see me as a significant part of their lives, not just some girl who hasn't planned her future out yet."

"You have a lot of time to plan for that," said the man. "For now, you have to figure out what you really want with your life. That will be a big help in planning. Regardless what everyone says."

Looking at the brown-haired boy on the far side of the garden with his back on the grass and his arms on his face, the same boy she was going to have to marry, she sighed. Ulysses followed her gaze and a slow grin formed on his face.

"That boy," he said. "I can see you in him. You are _so _alike in many ways."

She was almost shocked to hear that comment from him that her jaw dropped open and her brows furrowed. "I don't—I'm not—we hate each other!"

He chuckled lightly, "Of course, you do. Look at him; he's just as feisty as you are."

"Stop it," she said, raising her palm to his face. "Come on, we have an interview in an hour. I don't want to be late."

She rose from her seat and ordered for Ulysses to call on Sebastian who was peacefully dozing off in the open.

The interview was about as fake as it gets. The interviewer, a woman in the name of Chelsea Mason, was a pudgy little bird whose voice was freaking high and shrilly that everything from that little mouth of hers would sound like a shriek or a squeal and that would not help her mood in anyway.

The scene she opened the door to was not exactly what they were trying to portray. Santana and Sebastian were on both ends of the room and trying so hard not to make contact. It was Loretta, their house maid, who reminded her that the interviewer was already there.

She faked a smile and walked over to the guy, taking his hand in hers and strutting to meet the woman. He wasn't surprised by this, he was alright with it, even; but he could not shake the fact that a mere touch from this girl sent his insides spiraling. It was like she was a curse to him.

"Hi, good afternoon Miss Lopez and Mister Smythe!" the woman practically shrieked. "I am so glad to meet this young couple here! I am Chelsea Mason and this is Joe, my assistant. We're from Glamorous Mag."

She spared a quick glance over to the young man behind her as he curtly nodded. She shook their hands vigorously and beamed the widest she could.

Loretta led them to the living room and set cups of tea and a plate of crackers. The 'couple' sat on the couch across their guests as Chelsea and her assistant, Jim—Joe. All the while, Santana was thinking about the questions that were going to be thrown their way and the horror of answering each and every one of them with false sincerity.

The petite woman cleared her throat and said, "Alright, I'm gonna start by asking: how did you two meet?"

The assistant pulled out a recorder and his notepad and started scribbling madly.

Sebastian squeezed her hand gently and proceeded to answer the question. "We met at my father's homecoming dinner about two weeks ago. Gustavo Lopez offered to cater the dinner to celebrate our arrival. I came with my father from France to have a permanent settling here in New York. I have to say that's the greatest decision I have ever made."

_She remembered that night. Her parents made her dress up something elegant for the dinner party and she had never been so irritated her whole life. _

_She was meddling with the people in the hall, trying to become as friendly as she could or else her parents would have a fit about it. She could only give them insincere grins and half a listening ear, something she had years of practice to perfect. It was when the doors opened to reveal a well-dressed man in his late fifties that the party was suddenly livened._

_People started talking loudly amongst each other and some made their way to the newly arrived man, while she went the farthest away from the gathering group of people. She could only stare and roll her eyes at those social climbers and their obvious ways._

_It wasn't until the group started going her way that she realized that the man, Harrison Smythe, was actually aiming to get to her. Behind him was a tall and handsome man in his early twenties looking as bored as hell. His eyes were a light shade of green, that's what she first noticed._

"_Miss Santana Lopez," the man greeted, beaming at her. She returned this with a smile of her own. "It's so good to see the heiress of my best friend's empire. How is the college life, my dear?"_

_She proceeded to answer with the most used replies, but it was enough to satisfy the old man. And then, he turned to the young man behind him._

"_This is my son, Sebastian," he said, pulling him forward. "Sebastian, meet Santana Lopez. I hope you two will be great friends."_

_Patting his son on the back, he left the two of them with the string of people following him. It didn't take them a matter of time to become best enemies. _

_She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off sharply by the arrogant bastard. "No worries, I am not interested in you."_

_Her eyes widened at this. "Excuse me?"_

"_I said I am not interested in you or any of your flirtatious crap," he retorted, taking a glass of wine from the one of the servers walking around and sipping from it in a fancy manner._

"_Wow, you have got some nerves on your preppy little face of yours," she said, rolling her eyes. _

_That strategy, the thing where he pushes girls away, usually worked on girls who are too rich to not get what they want, and usually, when meeting Sebastian, those girls' wish list would immediately add him on. But, wow, this girl is nothing like those spoiled girls._

"_Okay, I'm sorry," he said, beginning on plan B. "Let me get you a drink—hey, waiter! Come here!"_

_The lanky boy in the middle of the crowd in his maroon vest made his way over to them with his tray of white wine. Sebastian snatched a glass and handed it to her, shooing away the boy before he could compliment or say anything._

_She took it and downed it in one swift movement, earning a strange look from the young man beside her._

"_Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" he asked, leaning towards her with a grin that could only be categorized as tricky._

_She raised a brow at him and said, "Well, first of all, I am not a spoiled brat like you are, and second of all, I am openly hating you right now which usually means you have to get out of my face in less than ten seconds or your face would be beyond recognition."_

_He scoffed, his eyes rolling in a well-practiced fashion. "That's feisty of you, darling, but I am not going anywhere without you on my trail."_

"_If there's any reason for me to be on your trail, it would be because I am kicking your ass in a nonchalant fashion wherein you would be in pain for the rest of your life," she said, matching his smirk._

_She could tell by the look on his face that he was disappointed by the way this was working out. He could tell by the look on her face that she's satisfied with the look on his face because she thought she was winning._

"_Come on," he said, "give it up, sweetheart. You know you want me."_

_She did not hesitate on raising another eyebrow at him. "The only thing I want from you is your heart so that I can boil it with fresh greens and serve it after dinner. Surely, the guests would be delighted."_

_He laughed heartily as if the joke was light hearted and not at all cruel. But, besides the laugh, nothing else came from him._

"_What? Cat got your tongue, or did you swallow it?"_

"_Can't you just shut up? I'm trying to be nice here."_

"_If that's you being nice, then hell must be a spa," she said, raising her eyebrow incredulously. _

_That was when the announcement was made._

"That is very sweet!" Chelsea chirped, clapping her hands like a little girl. "How did Miss Santana feel about it?"

This was what she dreaded. But Sebastian squeezing her hand again made her feel a bit better, if that's even real.

"I was ecstatic to meet him," she said, looking at the boy beside her as if asking for permission to say these lies. His mouth formed a thin line that could only be recognized as a smile if anyone looked properly. "I have heard so many things about him when he was still in France. I heard that he's a phenomenal Lacrosse player."

Those were carefully woven lies, that the thing about Lacrosse wasn't a lie at all, but inserting a fact in a lie makes it all that believable. She was rehearsed ever since she was little that the media would take small details and make them big, so averting their attention to the facts can get them to bite straight into the fallacy.

"Ooh, we have quite the player here, if you know what I mean," the woman shrieked again, making them both nervous and irritated. Santana knows Glamorous Mag although she wouldn't be caught dead reading it.

She knew that the gazette is a widely-read material and that whatever information the masses get would greatly come from this read. Whatever they portray today would mean a lot in the image that they were trying to maintain.

So, she smiled kindly as if taking the joke lightly.

"What was it like falling in love with a person you barely know?" she asked, feigning a serious tone. "People have seen you two in parks and shops and they say that you're practically inseparable."

Santana's heart sank and she didn't even know why. As if answering this question would ensure her burning in hell. Sebastian must have noticed her exasperation because he took the blow for her.

"Falling in love cannot be planned, you know," he said as he glanced at the nervous little girl beside him. It wasn't Santana anymore; it was some scared little girl who has been in too many 'things' like this that her whole life had been exposed to the world. He could not blame her for it; she was born into this kind of life, and yes, so was he, and getting used to it might take forever.

"When you find the right person, it doesn't matter if the timing was off, or if it isn't right," he said, not even bothering to look at the woman he was talking to. He was just focused on Santana and he dare not know why. "You just know."

His eyes, she could feel it on her skin. That gaze could burn through metal, and those burning sea-green eyes would melt away glaciers; the same eyes that bore on her skin at that very moment. Her eyes lifted to meet his gaze and that was when he chose to look away.

It was as if her eyes could read him, and he could not take it if she knew what he was thinking. It made him shrug involuntarily.

What made them go back to reality was the untimely shriek that came out from the mouth of their guest. "That is so sweet!"

Sebastian watched as she faked another natural smile. It was disturbing how practiced she was in front of people like this, and yet she could be as tense as this.

She was probably shocked when he put his arm around her shoulders because she instinctively shrank, but chose to relax.

All she could hear in her mind was, _"Better sell this out."_

Her stomach dropped as the thought repeated itself in her head. She didn't know why it hurt her so much to think that this was just an act. Good thing she had Sam with her to remind her of all the _real _things. Thinking about him made her feel a bit better about this whole situation.

"Alright!" the bird squeaked, "my last question is about the possibility that this quick romance may result in an early marriage. Our sources say that Sir Gustavo Herrera Lopez and Sir Harrison Smythe have arranged a ceremony that will be taking place as soon as possible."

Now, that was information that neither of them knows which shocked them both. Sebastian flashed a nervous grin and said, "We'll be taking our time. I'm sure they're still thinking about it."

The woman perked her brows and grinned that stupid grin, shutting the recorder off and standing. "This is a phenomenal meeting! I can't wait to write your article. Thank you and have a good day!"

They shook hands again and she proceeded with pulling her assistant behind her in a harsh manner.

_Finally, they can cut the act._

"That was some philosophical crap you've put there," she commented, referring to the love thing he had mentioned earlier. "Where'd you pull that? From your preppy ass books?"

He only shrugged, keeping quiet; very unlikely of him since they've known each other's personality by the bicker they shared. She could only ponder on what his problem is and shrug it at the back of her mind because she couldn't care less… right?

She travelled to the far end of the room, leaving the man all by himself, and took her phone out to read a text message from Sam.

_Baby, I miss you. I'm in the hospital getting some stitches done. Don't worry, I'll be fine. It was just some drunken jerk's fault._

She texted him back, a feeling on her chest constricting her breathing.

_Where were you last night? What bar is it?_

_I was at Hot Shots last night. Why baby?_

_Nothing. Take care._

She gasped as she read the message. Could it be—?

"Where were you last night?" she snapped, turning to look at Sebastian who was then seated at the couch, minding nothing.

He looked up with deep-set eyes; his lips were pursed before he spoke. "I was at a bar, I already told you." His eyes went back to staring at nothing.

"And you punched some guy… a blonde guy?" she asked, not even trying to hide the arising suspicion in her tone.

"Yes, so what?" he said, as if replaying last night's conversation, minus the kissing part. He felt himself clenching his fists and found it painful to do so as it stretched the strained skin.

Nevertheless, it didn't take her time to realize that even if there are tons of bars in New York, she knew which one was nearest and which one was Sebastian's personal hiding place.

"It was Sam, you asshole! You punched Sam!" she practically yelled at him, making his head snap back to look at her.

"I didn't know who it was!" he yelled back, making her jump a little. She should have expected this, but no matter how it was, something about this angry Sebastian made her heart shrink. "I was drunk!"

"Why did you punch him? And don't give me that 'I was drunk' crap because I won't believe it!" she said, crossing her arms in front of her. Her eyes were searching his at a safe distance as if trying to figure out a complicated puzzle.

Now, he contemplated on whether to tell her the truth and break her heart, plus confess that he cares for her or lie and cover up for that bastard to avoid girlish tears spilling from her eyes. He should not care about her, but his hands were shaking without reason at all and he took it as a sign that he should do whatever his mind screamed.

"I just felt like it!"

It came out of his mouth faster than he could even think, and before he could even measure its worth.

She scoffed condescendingly and snapped at him, "You are ridiculous! You know what, screw you! Now, Sam has to get stitches because of you. I thought you were intelligent with that head of yours full of witty remarks, but I was definitely misled. What's wrong with you?"

But, she didn't wait for his answer. She walked out instead and left him thinking about his choices.

* * *

_In this chapter, we saw the real 'first meeting' of our beloved pairing and many other revelations. _

Next up: Boys, Boys, Boys  
In the next chapter, we will see some back story for our beloved adorable Warbler, Jeff, and a lot of angst from our resident bad boy, Seb.

Stay with me, okay? :)


	4. Boys, Boys, Boys

_AN: Sorry if this chapter sucks. I bet you're not reading anymore. Please don't kill me!  
_Still, thank you for all those who reviewed and for my new readers, aloha! Ain't this grand? People still like this.  
And I am sorry for making Niff just a friendship 'cause something else is bound to happen... let's just leave it at that. I am babbling.

Here you go.

* * *

New York City looked gloriously enchanting that night as it held its best in front of the mighty tycoon as he gazed at it from his multi-million dollar viewing unit. His back was at his son who was looking like he could be trialed for murder at any time.

"I always knew you were trouble," the old man said, not even bothering to spare his son a glance. It was his way of controlling the wild young man. "How could staying out of trouble be so complicated?"

"I'm sorry, dad—

"—your apology will not make any difference, _son_," he said, stressing on his last word.

If Samuel Evans, Sr. was known for anything, it would be his ability to manipulate people into doing things. He had been famous for taking down companies, making them sell their properties and their stock shares to him. Sure, he was one devious guy, but his ways made him famous and he would rather choose death than come down from his high.

Being powerful over people made him feel like a king, and he would do anything to make Gustavo Lopez's empire bow down to him.

"But, you can convince me that you are worthy of being called my son by doing something simple… say, you know Santana Lopez, right?"

This time, he turned around to meet his son's gaze in a knowing, but falsely thoughtful, stare. His son nodded subtly, and this sparked something in the man's eyes. He dare not hide his look of disgust as he surveyed his son's disfigured face. It wasn't exactly disfigured, but it made him wonder how he could call this troubled young man his offspring.

"Have you met already? Like I told you?" he asked again, a slow grin forming on his wrinkled face.

"Yes, dad," the young man replied.

"Did you know that in a matter of months, one spiteful young man in the name of Sebastian Smythe would marry Santana Lopez? Say, son, you like the girl, don't you?"

"—I like her, but I don't—

"—then, go for her! Before the opportunity passes you. Remember, regret always comes last."

To his son, it was an advice of a father figure who had been nothing but supporting to him these past few years of his life. To the eyes of those oblivious, the older Evans was somewhat of an icon. Having been exposed to the masses as one powerful pioneer in the world of business, having helped his extensively long list of beneficiaries and charities was a plus to his good side.

But to those whom have encountered what devil the man actually is, this helping side of him was just an act for people to fall for his impeccable charms. Although he was deemed rich and superior to many, he was always looked as someone lesser than the Lopez tycoon. Now, he was set to destroy the seemingly indestructible power of one Gustavo Herrera Lopez to be able to claim what was supposedly his.

Sure, people might say what a prideful human being he must be. But, this is what he would say, that if you're at the top, would you want someone to sit on your face and not even acknowledge you?

This was the plan: it was not secret now that Samuel Evans, Sr. is a sneaky and manipulative devil who wants the entire world bowing down to him. He was now using his son, the young Samuel Evans, Jr., to try and get the old rivaling tycoon's riches by stealing away his beloved granddaughter from marriage to the son of one the other interference in his life. If this happened—this marriage—it would mean his assured downfall. It would be the marriage of the year and the preceding generations. He would be nonchalantly disregarded. He would never take that.

"Take my advice, son," he said, turning away once again to admire the skyline. "Simply take my advice, be my son, and I will disregard the fact that you have been a pain to me."

The way he said it was like it was everything good in this world; that as if being Samuel Sr.'s son was the most rewarding thing. It was that to the younger Evans, though, and because he wanted to be his father's _son_, he would do almost anything.

* * *

It was ridiculously humid that day and it wasn't for anyone's liking except for the three childhood friends who were then enjoying a day in the pool of the Duval family.

Well, at least two of them were enjoying.

Nick had always thought of Sebastian as the most conceited of their little pact. He was always scheming plans to prank other kids back when they were in high school and even way back when they were in middle school. Back then, he was always reprimanded for his playfulness and his carefree demeanor, but was always praised for his intellect.

Both of them knew about the way he was constantly trying to prove himself in front of his father even when he thought he was keeping it a secret.

But now, he was taking it too far. Agreeing on an arranged marriage is far beyond trying to prove himself; it was selling himself just for the sake of being his father's son. Nick could see how it was slowly destroying him.

He watched as the young man splayed himself across the grass, his top laying on the ground near him. His eyes were closed and he was unmoving.

They, on the other hand, were on the other side of the pool, quietly watching their friend. Their feet were on the cool water of the pool, but neither one of them were in the mood to waddle.

"You think he's in love with that girl?" asked Jeff, his eyes squinted due to the excessive amount of sunlight escaping the translucent roof of the pool.

Nick knew exactly who he was talking about. And it crossed his mind multiple times for the past few days how smitten Sebastian seemed when talking about the gorgeous Latina.

"I would not say he's in love," said Nick, glancing at the clear pool. "But I will definitely say that he has clearly met his match. They're too alike in many ways, it's disturbing."

There was a few seconds of silence before Jeff spoke, "I have never seen him this isolated since Amber Amore. I'm beginning to think he's about to go down that _awful _road again before it even started."

"Yeah, me, too," said Nick, now looking at the sprawled young man on the other side. This was what he was afraid of for his friend. Once he's there, there's no turning back unless someone is as strong and stubborn as him. The first time had been awful.

His break up with Amber followed right after his grandmother had died. It was tragic and no matter how hard they tried, they even followed him to France, they could not get him to talk about it.

Nick could remember the days when he would not go out of his room or even talk to anyone. He rarely ate and he barely slept. He was killing himself slowly. When Nick and Jeff saw him by the process of destroying the lock of his room, they were terrified by what they saw.

It wasn't Sebastian anymore. It was a pitiful creature who barely had any reason to live. He spent a week at the hospital for dehydration and starvation which led to several lung complications and a severe fever. Finally, after days of counseling and medication, he was _almost _back to normal. But it wasn't him anymore; someone darker took his place.

Until now, his friends could still see the changes, but they care too much for him to even care about those at all.

"What're we gonna do about it if it actually happens?" asked Jeff, a hesitant tone in his voice.

Nick shook his head, "I honestly don't know."

As he finished talking, Jeff's phone rang fervently on the grass beside him. The phone's light revealed the caller ID: Jackie Stoltz.

"Oy, Jeff!" Nick said, picking the phone up from the ground and handing it to his friend.

It was when he received the phone that his eyes widened. He looked at Nick and a knowing smile spread across his face.

He hit the answer button and breathed in deeply. "Hey baby!"

Nick watched as he exchanged whatever the woman was saying with "Uhuh", "Yeah", "That's great", and "Okay".

It was after that phone call that Jeff's face looked concerned.

"What happened?" asked Nick, his brows furrowed.

"Jackie's going to New York," he replied, his face only contorting more into a grimace.

"That's great! You're finally going to see your girlfriend after a month," he said, still amused with the way he reacted with the news. "What's with the face?"

He swallowed before looking at him, something in his eyes clued Nick into what's going to happen.

"She's… no."

Jeff could only nod.

_His feet were cold at the soles, so as he folded his knees closer to someone else's body, he felt relief wash over him. He did not even need to open his eyes to recognize who this girl is. Her scent clued him in to her identity, something he had become accustomed to._

_He found her neck and nuzzled his nose closer, his bare torso coming in contact with her bare back. Her warmth engulfed him and it sent his stomach a happy feeling that he had missed. There was now a smile on his lips as he kissed the back of her neck._

"_What a good way to wake up," said the girl's voice. Even in the morning, her voice was still a melody to his ears._

_She turned around to face him, her eyes still half-lidded and heavy from sleep, or lack thereof after their activity last night._

_He, on the other hand, had his eyes open to revel in her beauty. Her golden eyes met his green ones and he would admit that they could stay locked in that position forever if it was possible. Her messy hair made her more beautiful, if that's even possible. That smile on his face widened as another appeared on hers._

_He leaned in to catch her lips in his, feeling his insides turn upside down at her warmth. She kissed him back as softly, as if anything harder would break her. His hands snaked around her curved waist, pulling her closer. The feeling of her bare skin along his arms and his chest triggered the heat that spread through his body._

_When she pulled away, his chin rested atop her head, kissing her hair._

_He hummed before saying, "You were… wonderful last night, babe."_

_She chuckled underneath him, shaking feebly in his embrace. "You, too, mon amour."_

_They stayed like that for several minutes until the girl's stomach rumbled. He smiled and let out a sigh before inviting her downstairs for breakfast._

_It wasn't until the last step of the staircase, with her at his wake, had he seen a part of someone's foot in a position that could only be seen as lying. There could only be one other person in this house besides him and the girl, and before he knew it, he was exclaiming his grandmother's name._

"_Seb," said a voice from all over the place. The walls were talking. "Sebastian."_

_It was calling him and he was terrified. Everything started spinning and his vision went blurry. He could feel something on his shoulders as if invisible hands were shaking him—_

"Sebastian!"

To his defense, he didn't exactly snap awake. He just pushed whoever was shaking him as hard as he could, making that person stumble and fall on his backside on the grass with a muffled exclaim of pain.

When he was completely himself, he saw that Jeff was on the ground, rubbing his ass as he winced in pain. Looking around, he saw Nick at the far end of the pool, his head bobbing up and down the deeper end of the water.

It took him a few more seconds to realize that it was him who actually pushed his half-naked friend down.

"I'm sorry, Jeff," he said, shaking his head as it throbbed in pain.

_It felt real_, he thought.

The blonde young man groaned once again as he tried to get up but failed, and said, "It's fine, I'm alright. I might have broken some spine, but that's just gonna cause some temporary paralysis. I'm really—ow!"

Sebastian suppressed a smile at his cheeky friend. He stood to help his friend up, offering a hand. Jeff took it immediately with a grimace on his boyish face.

"I came here with news," he said, looking away as the news itself was eating him up.

Jeff's sudden silence was unusual to Sebastian. He had always known him to be this energetic ball of nonsense who used to bug him with his hyperactive self.

"Well…?" he said, urging him. But he seemed bothered.

He inhaled deeply and slowly, readying himself if ever Sebastian was about to punch him in the gut or kick him in the shin. "Jackie's coming home…"

He thought it would be better if he relayed the information tidbit by tidbit to ease him into it. Maybe, he'd take it lightly.

But he was wrong. His irritation was evident in his face and it was making him even more nervous than he already was. He would later blame Nick for backing out from telling the news himself. He would do so much better than him.

"Then what?" asked Sebastian, trying so hard to hold onto whatever little cool he had.

"Jackie'—please don't hit me!" his hands immediately shielded his face with his eyes scrunched up in defense.

"She—what?" he probably heard every word of it but his brain refused to process the information.

"My girlfriend's coming home…with…Amber…Amore…?" he said, slower than the first time and his voice slowly getting weaker with every word.

Jeff watched as his friend's face formed a mix of confusion and anger. This was always the scary part because both Nick and Jeff knew his moods too well and if anything near this mix of emotions would show, they would usually try to calm him down. Most of those attempts actually didn't work and those that did usually involve alcohol.

It took him everything to say one little word.

"When?"

"A week from now," Jeff replied with hesitation in his voice. This Sebastian was scary.

He observed as his jaw tightened and as he picked his shirt up from the ground and putting it back on. He walked away without a word and Jeff's heart began to slow down.

Before he knew it, Nick was behind him with a question. "What did he say?"

"He did not say anything," Jeff replied, looking far ahead. "This is a bad idea, Nick. I can feel it."

"Did Jackie say why she's going with her?" asked Nick, placing his hand on Jeff's shoulder.

Jeff turned to face him and frowned. "She said Amber broke up with the pothead. She's guessing she would want to get back together with Sebastian. You know Jackie, she can't really say no to her best friend."

Jackie Stoltz and Amber Amore go way back. They were best friends in college and since then, they were inseparable. It was when Jeff and Nick decided to visit the, then happy, couple that Jeff and Jackie hit it off quite easily.

Jackie Stoltz is a blooming model in France. If anyone was to ask Jeff to describe her, he would say, "He's a definite bitch, a demanding woman, a beautiful goddess and she's mine so back off."

They definitely have chemistry. Jackie is frank and a little mean while Jeff is a goofball and will always be patiently giving.

The brunette would always go around the world for photo shoots and fashion modeling, and this could be a major setback to their relationship, but it did not seem like it to them.

* * *

His father's office was huge and intimidating that even he, as his son, would rather go in a haunted house than face whatever wrath this man would unleash in this particular office.

A shiny plate shone in the sunlight that escaped the huge window, illuminating a gold-embossed 'Harrison Smythe, Sr.'.

His father sat on his executive chair with a grim expression in his face. He, on the other hand, sat nonchalantly on the other side of his mahogany table, eyeing the outside through the huge window.

His mind kept coming back to the recent news that he had received the day before, thinking of possible ways to escape or if it's even possible to not run into that girl again. He would do anything.

When his eyes wandered to the table separating him and his father, his vision could not let how a single picture frame stood amidst the organized surface of the expensive table. He knew what was behind that picture frame and it wouldn't be him.

It was his brother. His _late _brother, Harrison Smythe, Jr.

No one would regard how much the older Smythe favored the older of his sons, but it never escaped Sebastian. His father never hid his favoritism towards Harry, the better son. But he and his brother were close despite what others think. He was always there for everything because he knew that their dad wouldn't always be in the picture.

Sebastian was thirteen and Harry was eighteen when they were involved in a serious car accident. Sebastian suffered only a few broken bones and a shaken brain, but his brother went into a serious coma. Eventually, it became gradually worse and they had to let go.

Almost every day after that, Sebastian wished he was the one instead of his brother.

Behind his father on one of the highest shelves lie his own photograph.

"Your coach called me last night," said Harrison, pulling his thick-rimmed glasses down his nose to look at his son. "He says he needs you for an international game for Tuesday. I have already booked a private jet to fly all of you tomorrow morning."

Of course it would be up to his father to book a flight for all of them—

"All of us?" he asked, thinking that all his team were in France. "What do you mean?"

"I decided it would be better if you and your friends go together," he replied indifferently, leaning back on his chair. "Of course with Santana."

_Of course._

* * *

_Still, if you find that I suck, leave something in the reviews. It would mean a lot for me to know my mistakes. And I think there's a little mistake up there, but I myself can't find it. Thanks for the support._

_Next chapter would be lengthy, I swear._


	5. Strangle in Your Sleep

_As promised, here is the next chapter. I hope I wasn't too... bad. Here you all go. Keep the reviews coming, they make my typing fingers happy!_

* * *

_Of course._

His father's words were alright with him, but when the day came, it took his friends a few hours to convince him that his presence in the team weighed more than his loathing for Santana Lopez.

With a few hours left, they were in a rush helping him pack and he wasn't making anything easy. He kept complaining about Santana and Amber and some other incoherent thing, but good thing his buddies were trained to tune him out every time he gets into things like this. They were really good friends, best friends even, but being friends with one Sebastian Smythe might get a little tiring sometimes, and sometimes means frequently.

Packing the last toiletries the stubborn guy needed, Nick could only breathe a little easier before Sebastian complained again.

"I am not going," he said indifferently. It was as if he has the authority in his words, but it wouldn't work on Nick.

"Come on, Seb," he said, standing up from his crouched position in front of _his _suitcase. "Stop being a baby and help us out here."

He looked around to try and find Jeff in this huge guest room of the Lopez manor that Sebastian was staying in.

"You know what," said Sebastian, retiring in his couch, putting his legs across it even, "you can go to Paris. I ain't going with her. I can't stand living with her in a huge mansion; how can I stand staying with her in one room?"

Nick's mouth hung open. "You mean—

"Yeah, my dad made sure _we _are in the same room in a huge ass hotel. He even made sure we ride the same car. I can't stand this. I am not going. Screw Lacrosse."

Nick sighed exasperatedly. "You can't stand her? Then, why did you punch that guy? I thought you didn't care about her."

True, he had relayed the drunken punching story to his friends and he regretted ever doing so, because here Nick was, over-analyzing the whole story. He didn't even know what had gotten into him when he decided to hit the Evans boy. All he did know was that his mind kept replaying Santana's smile and that sickening flirting they had done in the coffee shop and it was what pumped his fury. He didn't even know why he was furious.

"I don't alright!" he said. But, even he heard the desperate defense in his tone.

"You do," said Jeff, his head appearing from inside the bathroom. "You wouldn't do that if you didn't care for her."

"I was drunk," he said feebly.

"Yeah," Jeff replied with a knowing smirk on his lips. "That excuse is too used. I don't believe it—do you, Nick?"

He walked out from the bathroom and turned to his other friend with a too formal nod.

Nick frowned a too dramatic frown and shook his head. "Not one bit, my friend. I think one of us here is having a case of… let's just hide it under the alias 'infatuation'."

"Ooh, that's a serious case, my friend!" said Jeff with too orchestrated hand gestures.

"I think we have to get a _serious _doctor."

"I agree, my good sir."

"Say, we call right away?"

"Very much so, sir!"

"—Stop it, okay?" said Sebastian, standing up from the couch. "So what if I like her? I still hate her."

That was when they both laughed that Sebastian was convinced he was friends with two lunatics. Their laughter got serious that they even slapped each other's backs.

"You can't hate someone you like," said Jeff in between laughter.

When their hysterics died down, Sebastian was more confused than irritated. He still hated her, that was clear… wasn't it? Because he still can't stand her antics and her bitchiness towards him. He hates how she struts all over the place like she is authority. He hates her body because it demands other guys' attentions and it irks him. Her face, he loathes it because he can't get it out of his head. Her laugh, her smile, her lips, everything about her makes him feel powerless and he _hates _that feeling.

He hated more the fact that she has caused him unspeakable dilemmas at night.

He gritted his teeth. "You **cannot **speak to anyone about this, alright?" he pressed on, making it clear to the two goofballs.

He was answered with a chorus of "Alright" and "Okay" before a knock was heard on the door. Jeff was nearest to it so he answered. Turned out it was that burly bodyguard, Ulysses.

"Sir Sebastian, your flight is in an hour," he said. "I hope you are ready. The car is waiting for you outside."

Sebastian just waved him off and stood, gathering the suitcase his friends packed for him and walking out the door before they could even say a word.

* * *

The car ride to the airport was silent, and that was because he and Santana were sitting at the far ends of the limousine and thoroughly ignoring each other. Nick and Jeff, on the other hand, were seated next to each other, observing the occasional theft of glances from the two.

Sebastian must not have thought he was being watched by his two best friends because he spent five whole minutes staring at the Latina like a lovesick puppy. He then looked away as if he was caught. They were surprised when it was Santana's turn to ogle at Sebastian. She was keen to make it subtle, but they weren't oblivious to it.

Nick and Jeff shared a look after that with their thoughts in sync and their laughter muffled.

It was pretty much like that the rest of the trip with the occasional jokes thrown from here to there by Jeff, but even the self-proclaimed comedian wasn't doing anything good to the bleak atmosphere. Or maybe it was because he just sucked at it with Nick shaking his head and all.

It was when they were inside the jet plane that Nick and Jeff got to know the girl more. Sebastian was definitely wrong when he said that Santana's a total bitch. She was a sweetheart and everything nice. But she did mention that she was a little bitchy back in high school, though that was way back.

Before they knew it, they were laughing about high school stories and misadventures whilst Sebastian was sitting near the window with his music blaring loudly from his earphones. He was trying to ignore the fact that a Santana Lopez was existing and that he was about to spend twenty-four hours with her in one hotel inside a (probably) single bed room in the next few hours.

But she, laughing with his friends made it harder for him to disregard her in his mind.

"What's up with him?" Santana asked, referring to the loner behind her about two seats from them.

Nick and Jeff followed with their gazes and then shared knowing looks before Jeff let Nick answer that for them.

"He's just… aggravated," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why?" she asked, leaning closer to the two as if they were relaying a secret.

But, before Nick could answer again, Jeff was on it with his careless retorts. "Well, his ex-girlfriend is coming to New York and he isn't exactly thrilled by it."

His dark-haired friend had to kick him from underneath the table to let him know that what he said would totally get both of them in trouble with the Smythe.

And as much as he tried to hide it, his head was screaming in pain, but a slim smile broke on his face.

"Ex-girlfriend?" she asked again, narrowing her eyes in thought. "What, is she some kind of psycho?"

Nick had to give in to her questions because someone had said too much. "Well, no. She's actually pretty decent—

"Pretty _and_ decent," Jeff pointed out with a stupid smile on his face.

He was about to add some more details until Nick elbowed his ribs and he had to retreat in pain.

"Will you stop talking?" said his dark-haired friend with a disbelieving expression. "Let's just keep it simple because Sebastian would actually kill us if we give too much away. This 'girl' was his girlfriend for a year, but she dumped him for a pothead. He was put through hell after that."

The only sound they could hear from the girl was a little, "Oh."

She could just watch as the two goofballs started bickering in front of her because she was too absorbed with analyzing the whole situation. So, he was being like this because his ex-girlfriend is going to visit him and he's having some bitter phase? But, it has been—what, two years—since they broke up and he still has some deep resentment about that girl.

Her train of thoughts was mildly interrupted when Nick leaned in with an apologetic plea, "I'm begging you, please don't tell _him_."

She gave him an assuring smile before leaning back and analyzing it over and over again until she could not think straight and the mere dipping of the plane was enough to spin her world. She does not do well during flights and that's a constant fact; even a few hours of flight would get her severely jetlagged.

She didn't even notice that they were on stable ground until Jeff came and kindly helped her up. She was flat on her feet until the only asshole in the trip walked past her and knocked her off balance. Good thing, though, that Jeff was holding her right in place and even offered to walk her down the plane.

She wasn't even on solid cement when she spotted a bigger guy with seemingly opaque sunglasses who, she guessed, would be her bodyguard. The man wore a painted grimace that it looked like it was permanent. When she got her feet on ground, the man took her from her kind friend and led her to a small Porsche where she was surprised to see Sebastian on the other side.

He caught sight of her as the door opened and his heart jumped, but he still chose to display an air of arrogance and shrugged. She rolled her eyes at him, slipping on the seat next to him. She put as much space between them as possible, but the small car allowed only five inches of distance.

He could not help himself from stealing glances from the tired Latina who was leaning laboriously towards the window of the car. She was quietly sleeping and he was surprised because the road wasn't exactly smooth and the driver wasn't exactly great.

He didn't know it, but his heart was beating madly through his ribcage because he was trying to disregard the fact that she looks divine when she's sleeping; and not to say less violent.

He tried swallowing a couple of times and breathing slowly, but those was to no avail since his chest could not be tamed.

Sebastian watched as she stirred to face him, still sleep-induced, her lips parted and her breathing was deep. That space they were allowed to have was inadvertently closed as she rested her head on his shoulder.

_Shoot,_ he thought as his heartbeat once again skyrocketed to a new extreme. It was everything he dreaded. Her cheek on his shoulder, her head almost on his chest, if she was to wake up it wouldn't be because of the unstable road but because of his uncontrollable heartbeat; and her breath near his chest. He intended on shoving her off of him, but decided against it since that may be the only time he could see her as peaceful as this before another round of hurtful things splatter from her mouth.

He clenched his jaw, trying to calm his wildly beating heart because it wasn't exactly helping in this situation.

He tried looking away but his eyes were stubbornly returning to the gorgeous thing on his shoulder.

There, he admitted that she's gorgeous; that she caught his attention without even trying. The first time he walked through the Lopez manor's double doors, he immediately spotted the elegantly dressed Latina from afar, alone and without a care in the world. Her scowl and her casual sipping from her wine glass intrigued him because she was not as social as other born-rich girls.

Countless of times, he caught his own breath hitching when she stirs in closer, still sleeping.

To his relief, the car stopped in front of a luxury hotel after half an hour. The dying of the engine woke Santana up and she was perplexed as to how she ended up in her enemy's embrace. She pushed herself off of him with him displaying his best 'asshole' smile.

"I dare say you liked the position you were in just a few seconds ago," said Sebastian as cockily as he could. It was the best he could muster since he had not been breathing properly almost the whole of the trip.

"Shut up, Twink," she said, snapping at him with a glare. "I wasn't aware I was in an unpleasant position; if I knew, I would have stabbed you with a knife and burnt your body."

"You didn't seem uncomfortable, though," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She just scoffed and exited the car as quickly as she could; walking past Nick and Jeff who were just chatting about how the presence of sexual tension between the two of them was too strong. Their eyes followed the fuming Latina and wondered what the bastard had done now.

They watched as Sebastian exited the car next, rubbing the back of his neck with half a frown.

"She seems pissed," Nick commented, searching Sebastian for any answer as to why.

Sebastian chuckled with disdain, "Seems like I'm doing my job right."

When he reached the room, he tried to examine it; its huge interior and the intricate French design all over the walls and the furniture. It reminded him of the countless nights he spent with his grand mere singing songs to her and helping her knit something. Sadly, though, her house was sold right after she passed away. It would be totally grand if he could take some time to visit that house if he was allowed.

He made sure that there's no Santana lurking around the humongous room before he took his phone out and dialed Jackie's old number, hoping it was still hers. He let it ring as he slid on the bed.

He was relieved when he was greeted by a cheery voice from the other end. "Sebastian! How's it going?"

He cleared his throat before answering, "Everything's fine, actually. I'm having a game tomorrow afternoon here in France—

"That's great! I wish you all the best! Is Jeff with you? I know the old man always wanted the two around you, you know?"

"Yes, he came with us," he replied. "Listen, Jackie, can I ask you something?"

There was a pregnant pause before the brunette answered. "Is it about Amber?"

"Yeah—

"First of all, I was not in control of the whole situation and as much as I want to call myself her best friend, I still am aware of the pain she put you through and I tried my best, Sebastian. But her mother insisted that she take a vacation in New York—

"Jackie! Listen! I am not blaming you or anything," he said, then sighed. "I just… is she still with…?"

"With Vincent? No, the dickhead left her for ten grams of marijuana," she chuckled as if it was a joke. "But, hear me, if it bothers you, I'll do anything."

It was his turn to chuckle, "No, actually, it's fine with me. Have a great day, Jackie, bye."

"You, too, Seb," she said with an evident smile. "Good bye—and tell Jeff to quit the pizzas, you know he's lactose intolerant."

"I will, bye!"

And with that, they both hung up.

* * *

It has been a long time since they both spoke and when she comes to New York, talking would be the hardest thing he would ever have to do in front of her, he was sure of it. He could still remember her and every part of her that made him fall in love, and elaborating on that even if it was just in his head made him sick.

It was a busy French day, but the trio found themselves in a coffee shop nearby. Some people would stop by and ask them if Sebastian was actually in the center fold of Glamorous Mag and he would say yes then shoo them away.

"News gets around really fast," Nick said to Jeff, purposefully cutting Sebastian out of the picture.

"Yeah, I wonder how many people know of their 'pretend' love," said Jeff, also purposefully saying that to Sebastian's face.

"I don't know, Jeff," Nick said, turning to Sebastian. "I like Santana; she isn't what Sebastian described to us."

"Of course," said Sebastian, rolling his eyes. "You only act harshly to the people you dislike. She dislikes the arranged marriage so she acts violently around me."

Jeff and Nick shared glances of amusement before Nick leaned in and said, "We think she likes you."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What makes you say so?"

It was Jeff's turn to lean in, "We caught her looking at you when you're not looking at her. _We think she likes you._"

The act would not have been complete without a little wiggle of Jeff's eyebrows, but it wasn't what caught his attention. It was the mere fact that his friends saw Santana looking at him.

"Really—I mean, okay, fine. Who cares?" he shrugged. He tried his best to look unbothered by what they said, but in his mind he was trying to analyze. _Did she really?_

Suddenly, they were laughing uncontrollably as if his last line was a hearty joke and Sebastian was a good clown. Sometimes, he hates his friends for being so… knowing. They would notice every little thing and use it against him and he could not prove them wrong because he knew in himself that they're ninety percent right most of the time.

* * *

"You sleep on the floor!"

"No, you sleep on the couch, I don't care if you're a girl, you sleep nowhere near me."

"Who would want to sleep next to a snoring monster?"

"Says the girl who sleeps noisily."

Now, he knew that was lie since he saw how peaceful she seemed whilst sleeping and he admired her for it secretly.

"We can argue until morning, I don't have a game tomorrow," she said, putting her hands on her hips and an evil smirk on her face.

_Right, the game._

He blinked several times, weighing the options of not getting a good night sleep arguing about who's to sleep on the single bed or getting a much needed slumber on a body-pain inducing couch. He needed the energy tomorrow or else he would not be on his game and he would not take it if his untainted game records would get tainted.

He sighed. "Fine, you sleep on the bed. I will just, you know… strangle you in your sleep."

She shrugged and claimed the bed to herself with that ridiculously short get up that wouldn't ever count as clothing. It looked like some shiny rags sewed at the seams to look like it could shelter a body to Sebastian. But he had to admit, Santana could wear rags and still look hot as hell.

He bit his lip and pretended that he never did think of that. He plopped down on the sofa as he watched her turn to her side and put the lights out. He pulled his shirt up and off his body before he stared at ceiling, his mind in a mush.

_Where was she the whole day? I didn't see her at all. Was she still talking to that Sam guy? I don't like him at all. I need to stop thinking about this. I need sleep. I can't sleep. This couch… is it even a couch? It feels like a rock sculpted into a sofa. She must be having the time of her life in that queen sized bed. I need to stop thinking about her._

He groaned as quietly as he could, trying to push away any stray thoughts of her because it's eating the remaining time up for his much needed sleep. Everybody knows how cranky Sebastian gets when he doesn't get enough sleep at night. They had to train early in the morning tomorrow and this isn't exactly helping.

_Is she asleep? Maybe I could slip in unnoticed. I would probably wake up earlier than her. She would never notice._

So, gathering whatever guts he had left, he stood and took tiny steps towards the sleeping figure. He swallowed as many as he could because he remembered how madly his heart had beaten the last time he was so much as five inches closer to her.

He settled next to her, his bare chest emanating the loudest heartbeats he had ever heard. Or was it his blood rushing in his ears?

He turned to the other side and decided to close his eyes thinking it would earn him sleep. But her arm snaking around his waist and her body closing the proximity between them hitched his breath and probably stopped his heart for about a few seconds.

_She's asleep, she doesn't know what she's doing. _

But it wouldn't calm his incessant cardiac muscle. He decided then that if he forced himself to a slumber, he could forget about this in the morning. He could.

A few hours went by with that as their primary position, shifting a little when she does and he was finally asleep… in her embrace, with her breath on his chest (because they were now face to face, thanks to a sleepy and mushy-brained Sebastian), his arm around her waist and one of her hands on his chest.

Then, it was Santana's turn to wake. When she realized the position she was in, her mind immediately screamed, but her physical body seemed against the notion. Her mouth stayed shut and her muscles were powerless in this man's constriction. If this was his idea of strangling her in her sleep, well, it's lame and it's not working.

_But his muscles are hot._

No, who would ever think that?

_And his hot breath on your skin. Ooh, Santana, this is me, the annoying voice in your head that makes you realize how hot this guy is pressed up against you._

Fuck. Sleep, Santana, just sleep. Ignore this and this would all just be a dream in the morning.

_Oh, you know how I can't count the times you've dreamt about this dreamy guy? That's right._

She could feel herself heating up and—this could not be happening. So she feigned sleep and stirred to turn away from the enemy because she thought that would make this whole situation less creepy.

_And did you see how his lips parted? He looks even more attractive asleep. You know you can always turn around and drink in his perfection—_

This has got to stop. _And why was he half-naked?_

Good thing, though, that she forced herself into sleep because in the morning, she was almost convinced that it was a dream because he wasn't there the moment she woke up; although her heart sank when she saw the empty space beside her.

* * *

"_Come on, Smythe! Where's your game? Run! What the hell is wrong with you?"_

It was only a matter of minutes before his coach called him in during practice because of his exceptionally bad play.

His coach, Coach Klein, was a tall man in his late forties with unkempt sandy brown hair and a belly that seems like it could burst at any moment from his tucked in shirt.

Klein put his hands on his waist and looked at Sebastian sternly. "Look, Sebastian, you are one of our best players and this—," he motioned to him, "—is not going to help us win an international. I don't know what the problem is, but you have got to bring your game or else we're nothing."

He gazed at the young man again and sighed, "Do we understand each other?"

Sebastian met his gaze wearily, "Yeah."

How could he concentrate in this damn game if his mind kept coming back to this morning when he opened his eyes to another dreadful position? He kept shoving it off to the back of his head, but it kept coming back like it owns his brain.

"_Sebastian!" _

He looked up in alarm as the ball was about to go his way. Good thing his reflexes were as sharp as before that he was able to raise his stick just in time before it hit him and he sprinted towards the goal post, bringing a point to his practice team.

"_That's my boy!" _he heard his coach shout from afar.

But he couldn't be like this during the game. There's just so much in his mind, Amber, and then there's Santana which makes all of these complicated because he knew in his mind that she doesn't matter. What matters is the empire they're going to create which will definitely… make his father… proud.

The rest of the day was a blur, but he eventually found himself resting before going out into the fields to face his opponents. His team was as composed as ever, but they were relying on him to bring home the bacon. He gave them his best smile and his best prep speech, but he could not shake the fact that he would be distracted the whole game. Especially since he had this idea that his father would urge his friends (of course, with Santana) to watch the game because that's how couples should be, right?

That's quite the problem, as what Sebastian had figured. The field was very huge unlike the phony ones they have in America. But despite that, he immediately spotted the dark-haired girl from one of the stands looking as bored as ever. She was sitting next to Nick who was sitting next to Jeff and the two boys were chatting excitedly.

When they noticed that Sebastian was looking at them, they waved enthusiastically. But he wasn't looking at them, he was looking at—

The long sound of the whistle woke his senses and he ran to the center of the field to meet with the referee.

It was just a rush of the rules and they were back on their respective teams' corners, talking about how the opponents look like they could eat little Blaine Anderson.

"Hey, I am faster than any of you!" said Blaine, raising his eyebrows playfully.

"Okay, okay," Sebastian interrupted, "here's the plan: Blaine, you have to get past the ginger twins because I heard they're the blocking players. Bryan and Thad would assist you around and I will be waiting near the goal. Finn, I need you to back me up. If we're lucky, they're gonna put a rookie on goal with their pride on their players. We got this! On three! One, two, three—

"Go Warblers!"

With that, they crossed their sticks up in the air and took their positions.

He could see the fire in the ginger twins' eyes and their visions were trained on him. They were about half a foot taller than him and their bodies were like walls of cement. The only distinction was the other one is wearing number 55 while the other one is wearing 24.

He would actually bet that this team won't play clean with them.

The ball was put on the ground and the referee whistled.

It was his reflexes to be thanked because he scooped the ball from the ground with ease and passed it to Blaine who was waiting at the sidelines. He ran at the back of the goal post and watched as their fastest member weave through defensemen with Bryan and Thad on his trail.

What he didn't expect was the appearance of one of the ginger twins, the one with 24 on his uniform under the chasing men, tripping Blaine and making it look like an accident by rolling around on the ground. The ball rolled to the offside, granting the other team possession of the ball.

"_That's intentional!" _his coach yelled from the sides.

Sebastian ran to help the short man up and asking if he could still play. The curly-haired boy nodded with an assuring smile before returning to his position.

He then walked to Bryan and instructed him to keep an eye on player 24.

They ran through half of the game with three of them getting mildly injured because of the brute play of the opposing team. Finn had his head shaken when another player, the huge one with a huge scar on his leg, hit his helmet _unintentionally _with his stick. Ken had his knee scraped and Blaine was having difficulty breathing because he was knocked down by the other ginger twin.

The score was 12-13 with the Warblers on the lead, but it does not look good.

What other thing that does not look good was Sebastian's concentration.

And, hell, his eyes kept scanning the crowd for Santana because—he didn't even know why.

"They're doing it dirty," said Blaine, a pained expression on his face. "Those twins—they were trying to kill me!"

Some other comments about how dirty the other team played, so Sebastian had to cut in.

"Calm down!" he yelled and it did the deed. "We have the lead here, guys. Just calm down. I was actually right when I thought they put a rookie on the goal. All you have to do is to pass me the ball and I'll take it from there. I just need two guys to back me up—," Ken and Landon raised their hands and Sebastian was grateful for that, "—yeah, you two. We got this! On three, one, two, three—

"Go Warblers!"

But he could not shake the hard beating of his heart. His muscles ached and his head was throbbing with mixed sensations, or maybe it was the adrenaline.

There was that hard lump on his throat that he could not swallow, let alone spit. It was as if his stomach was turning on him the moment he needed to be composed and concentrated.

It wasn't a matter of minutes before the ball was in their possession once again, with Blaine running like lightning through the slow defensemen. He quickly made a pass to Ken and Ken gave it to Sebastian who was already running around the goal post.

The crowd went wild; it was unquestionable who the crowd favorite was.

He could see the look of terror in the kid's face as he rounded around his goal, working his footwork around the too slow people.

He ran a good distance from the goalie, and then sprinted with all his might towards the enemy infested side of the field. He was lucky to have such toned limbs to get past the towers.

It wasn't until he reached about approximately three feet from the goal that the other half of the ginger twins appeared behind him, his stick poking Sebastian's ribs unceremoniously. They were playing like that for a good thirty seconds before Sebastian escaped him by faking a left. But the goon has great joints because he managed to hit Sebastian on the same spot harder.

That was when he felt his vision go blurry all of a sudden, and his usually good sense of balance failed him. His knees gave in and that was all it took for him to wretch in pain on the ground, clutching his side.

His breathing became ragged and his sight became somehow unclear, but he could hear the collective gasp from the watchers. The air could not reach his lungs, thus the shallow breathing and the dimming of his vision.

His team mates pooled around him, asking if he's alright, but he could not answer that when even the littlest of motion put him in pain.

He could hear Finn and Blaine yelling to the referee how it was intentional and the player should be kicked out, then he could not process whatever they were talking about anymore because his mind suddenly decided to malfunction.

"_He's unresponsive."_

"_We should bring him to the infirmary immediately!"_

"_Give way, give way! Get out of the way—_

Infirmary? With just about a few minutes left in the game and with the opposing team leading with three points? No way.

It was as if he was given new batteries because he sat up without wincing and stood up without a word, warding off the medics before they could even reach him.

"Sit down, you might have fractured a rib!" said a woman.

"I will have plenty of time for the infirmary **later**."

Sebastian gave her a look that must have intimidated her because she took her medics friends off of the fields immediately.

He was already walking to his position, not minding the pain, when Blaine caught up with him.

"Are you sure you're fine, Captain?" he asked, concern in his tone.

"I'm fine," he said as hard as he could to try and mask the sharp pain on his side. "What I'm not fine with, though, is losing."

Blaine gave him a disbelieving look, "Got it," and then ran to his own position.

He surveyed the field and saw that neither of the ginger twins was around. They were replaced by two nervous looking rookies and it made him smirk in his head.

"_Smythe!" _his coach shouted. _"What the fuck do you think are you doing?"_

He turned to look at his concerned coach with a hard expression, _"I am winning this game!"_

With about less than three minutes left, he pooled his remaining energy into focusing where the open spaces are and who the open people are.

He admits, he had slowed down due to his breathing problem but he still scored two out of the four points that made them champion that day.

He could only celebrate for about three seconds before the world went black.

* * *

_Oops, lengthy chapter. Let me know what you think. :) Please grace me with your words of wisdom._


	6. Critical

AN: I don't think people are still reading this. But if you are, thank you from the bottom of my heart. This chapter sucks. Period.

* * *

"_This season's Friendly Cup with the Warblers going against the Lions ended with a very shocking one-point win by none other than the no-lose Warblers! It is a great game, didn't you think so, too, Lewis?"_

"_Yes, it really was, although I'm afraid Captain Sebastian Smythe might have to withhold Lacrosse—or any other activity, that is—because of two broken ribs caused by one brute player, Walter Schmidt, one half of the Schmidt twins."_

"_Truly, but the game was phenomenal! Who wouldn't agree with me when I say that star player Sebastian Smythe was on top of his game yesterday. Spectacular!"_

No one could ever explain the sinking of her heart when she saw Sebastian drop to the ground unconscious. She could only hear Nick's "Oh my God" before she found herself sprinting away from the stands to go to the field to—why exactly was she going?

First of all, she does not have any medical practice so going there would just result to her being a distraction. And lastly, she should not care. But hell, the bastard could be in a serious condition.

And there she was, being ushered away from what looked like an unconscious Sebastian face down on the grass.

Nick and Jeff met her at the exit of the stands with genuinely deep concern on their faces. Jeff even had to restrain Nick from running after the Schmidt player when their team exited because he was so furious he turned beet red.

"I swear I'll freaking kill that guy!" he hissed as they watched the players leave. The stretcher that carried Sebastian went the other way and they had to run to catch up. The lady that seemed in charge immediately informed them of she supposed had happened.

"Two ribs were broken and one of those fragments mildly punctured one of his lungs," she said almost too formally. "But, don't worry, he'll be alright in a matter of weeks, although he should have gone with the medics rather than stay in the game."

But Santana didn't hear any of it since she was too absorbed looking at the bastard lying on the stretcher with a pained expression on his face. If she thought her heart couldn't sink anymore deeper, she was definitely wrong. She didn't even know that she was being led away by her two companions to their car to follow the ambulance.

She sat at the backseat with Nick on the wheel and Jeff right next to him. They tried stirring conversation with her, but she looked disgruntled enough that if her short replies wouldn't clue them in, her distant look would. Her mind kept showing her Sebastian's picture on the stretcher, forehead covered in dirt and sweat, his pain evident on his face.

The two best friends shared knowing looks, their curiosity and their suspicions getting more valid than ever.

If they could communicate telepathically, they would wonder how hard it is to confess feelings, and the shit these two were put to because they thought this was how it was supposed to be since they were staging a 'performance'—and then they would ponder if they have any other superpowers, which would be entirely beside the point.

Nick rounded the sharp corner of the parking lot and killed the engine before stepping out, but not after Santana's frantic walk past him and his best friend. They stared as she brisk-walked towards the entrance of the Emergency Room without a care in the world; not even caring if a couple of cars abruptly skidded to a halt as she walked past them.

They both could only gasp and run after her, quickly apologizing to the shell shocked drivers before she disappeared through the doors of the hospital.

The hospital was bleak and dead, Santana had thought. It reminded her so much of Quinn's accident back in high school. She made it a point to not let others know that she was devastated because of that accident, but she was just as devastated as every single one of them.

She hadn't noticed that she was petrified on the spot until Nick and Jeff spotted her and talked to her, making her jump a little.

"Santana, are you okay?" asked Nick, concern in his eyes.

She wordlessly nodded before leaving them again to ask the female nurse on the desk about Sebastian Smythe. She effortlessly pointed down the hall and told that he's in the treatment center for broken bones, pressing on her warning that visitors are still not allowed until the procedure is done.

She found herself on one of the plastic chairs pasted on the wall with a blank look on her face. She hadn't even noticed the duo sit on either side of her until Jeff said something.

"Are you sure you're fine?" the blonde asked, holding her shoulders gingerly.

She gave them a weak smile and nodded, but she figured it wasn't enough because they both had the same unbelieving expression on their faces. Nevertheless, they let her be.

"I never knew Lacrosse could be such a dangerous game," she said, trying to clear the air. Jeff had a look of pure childlike amusement on his face while Nick was just satisfied that she spoke.

Jeff spoke brightly, "I was a player once, but I tired of it. I dislocated a shoulder once 'cause of that, it ain't pretty."

"No, you didn't! You just scraped your shoulder; you're totally twisting the story! I didn't dislocate your shoulder, stupid," Nick exclaimed with disbelief. "Don't believe him, he's just a crybaby."

Jeff looked offended, "That's because you're not careful, you jerk! It hurt really badly—

"No, it didn't, you child—

"I scrape your shoulder, let's see how you react!"

This fight would have carried on if it weren't for the lady on the desk shushing both of them. Regardless, they still shot each other with glares.

That little banter made Santana think she's with two loud children and it put a smile on her face. She wondered where Sebastian picked these two kids from because his personality surely did not match these two's. How could two bright souls stick with a dark and cynical one? Or do they go way back?

She made a point to call one of her friends because she needed someone to talk to, someone mature enough.

"Hello? Mercedes?"

"_Doll, you sound off. What's wrong?"_

Mercedes Jones is one of her closest friends, next to Brittney. This dark-skinned girl and she go way back in high school; forming quite a special bond because of their Glee club after being able to help her with the _things _she had to cope up with in the hell they all call high school. She's one of the few people she goes to and open up her feelings and her opinions and Mercedes would actually embrace her fully like a sister she never had. She's also one of the friends her parents never approved of because of her middle class stature, but could they really do something against their rebellious daughter?

She felt her throat clog with something unexplainable.

"_Are you alright?"_

"I am, Mercedes," she choked. "I'm just at the hospital—

"_Oh my God, baby doll! What happened? Are you sure you're alright? Where are you?"_

The frantic tone in her voice just gave her a smile, knowing that this was one of her truest friends.

"I'm alright, I'm in Paris, actually, and no, I am not hurt or anything," she replied, a light laugh escaping her.

She heard a sigh from the other end. _"Oh God, you scared me to death. What's up with you?"_

Santana stood and walked away from the still bickering duo to speak somewhere no one could hear her.

"It's Sebastian," she spoke quietly as if anyone who could hear it would hold it against her. "He's hurt badly and I don't know what to do—am I supposed to be concerned?"

Mercedes was also one of the few who knows about her and Sam and the little performance she and Sebastian were trying to sell. At first, her friend was just as hesitant as the others she had told this to, but she agreed that whatever she does, she will support. But she was keen to let Santana know that a lie could only go so far and that if this continues any longer, her life would eventually become a mess.

The sureness in her tone when she said that scared Santana to a new extreme, but she was always the strong one so she let the fear pass thinking it would never happen since they both carefully devised a plan that would _surely _go smoothly.

"_You're his pretend girlfriend, you _should _care," _her friend pressed. _"Why are you calling anyway? You, of all people, should know what to do about this."_

She paused because she knew she'd be scared to say this to anyone else and she was not entirely sure if saying this to someone would actually relieve her. But she said it anyway, "I'm confused."

Mercedes had already figured it out before she even spoke her vulnerability. She knows Santana. She's a strong girl, a bitch even. She fights for what she believes in and speaks her mind without fear. But she also knows how this strong façade always hides a fragile person's fears and pains, and Santana's full of those.

She was a strong soul back in high school. She lets no one touch her and her beliefs. But Mercedes watched her fall in love and it made her frail. Was this the same Santana back then?

"_You told me you're in love with Sam Evans," _she said, trying to clear that, if not to herself, to Santana at least. _"You told me you're in love with him because he makes you feel normal. Why are you confused exactly?"_

Here goes nothing, she thought.

"I'm supposed to pretend I care," she said, and then she took a deep breath before continuing. "But I don't think I'm pretending anymore."

She was about to say, 'I told you so', but she decided against it since she knew how this would end. It's inevitable; Santana finally found someone who could match her own attitude and she's probably thinking it's hate when it's an entirely different thing. A thing in which Mercedes or any other person has no say about.

"And I love Sam, I swear I do," she said, backing herself up. But Mercedes could hear the desperation in her voice.

"_Of course you do, sweetheart," _she responded. _"But, you have to figure out what you truly feel. Until then, your life would be a total mess. I'm sorry if I can't be of help—yeah, Martin, I'm coming—my manager's already in a fit. Bye, love yah!"_

And the line went dead, leaving Santana pondering on what to do with the worry in her chest.

Just a few hours after that phone call, their attentions were caught by the same lady who shushed the two 'children' beside her to let them know that they're free to see Sebastian now. It was like a race between the two as they sprang up and almost ran down the hall like two deer being hunted.

She walked because she didn't want to seem affected by it, but her heart was beating madly out of her chest.

On the plus side, she was partly relieved to see that snarky little smirk on that bastard's face as she entered his suite. He was half naked with only long bandages covering a third of his torso.

It looked like he wasn't in pain anymore; it means she could instill her own form of pain. She could only avoid smiling before the jerk went into talking again.

"I see you're worried about me," he said with an air of arrogance so intoxicating that Santana's stomach seemed to have turned inside out by it.

"I'm just trying to make sure you're dead," she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her. "I am thoroughly disappointed that you aren't."

His smirk grew into a bigger one and it amused Santana. "For all I know, you ran out of the stands for _me_. Nick told me."

Nick, who was beside his bed, opened his mouth to—what, apologize—but she was on it before the dark-haired boy could even speak.

"That was all for show," she said and she could swear she saw his smirk falter at her words. But it could have just been her imagination. "Besides, I was running to congratulate the red-haired stud who poked you with his stick. That was phenomenal."

"Let's hear you say that when _I _poke you with my stick," he said, perking his brow. And he admits to himself, that **didn't **sound right at all. He could also see on her face the way those completely innocent words twisted in her mind.

"I'll just pretend that you're some dumb idiot and whatever you just said didn't sound inappropriate at all," she spoke, and then sauntered towards the couch to fumble with her phone.

Thankfully, that shut him up.

She was actually waiting for Sam's text message, or anything to let her know that he's still alive or something. Not that she was worried, she just thought she might get… replaced. But that's entirely beside the point. She sent about twenty or so text messages to the Evans boy, but he still hadn't replied to a single one.

* * *

"What did the doctor say?" Jeff asked as he ate the 'terrible' food of the hospital that was supposed to be Sebastian's and was supposed to be hated, but he seemed able to swallow them despite its odd taste.

Nick was reading some old magazine on the other side, flipping through uninteresting pages while Santana was out doing… something.

He leaned back on the bed with difficulty, feeling his side hurt a little. "It was about a couple of ribs being broken and one of my lungs being stabbed or something. I really couldn't care less."

"Eh," he shrugged, focusing on his little meal, "I care. I think you should, too, considering it was your life on the line."

"It was just a stupid game," Sebastian said, giving him furrowed brows. It had Nick's attention, but he did not speak a word.

"You had us all worried," Jeff continued. "I was worried, Nick was worried—even Santana was worried."

"She was?"

"What Nick said was true," Jeff replied, now meeting Sebastian's eyes. "She was the first one out of the stands. Couldn't hold her in place."

Then, for the first time that day, he felt better not because he upped her this time, but because she _actually _cared for him. He kept that arrogant smirk on his face as he stared at the ceiling, but his heart could just burst out of his chest if it wasn't for that damn bandage.

* * *

"What do you mean he's critical?"

"_Santana, please stay calm. He's in the hospital, but he's critical. The doctors said he could gradually get better if he has the will—_

"Mike! What happened to my grandfather? He wasn't sick when I left!"

"_San, calm down please. We're doing everything we can. I have to go—no, Tuber down!—sorry, I have to go. Don't get yourself worked up, San. I'll take care of everything. Good bye."_

But she didn't have the strength to say good bye. She dropped the phone on the floor as she sank on it, trying so hard to catch her breath when she wasn't even running.


	7. Nightmare in a Dream

AN: This is practically a drabble that I need to get out of the way. I'm sorry, this must be the worst chapter. I swear I'm trying my best to do better. Please review and let me know if you have ideas to insert in this story and I would seriously consider it. Thank you to those who stick with me until now. You don't know how happy I am when I get emails. Thank you!

* * *

"_No! You can't say that! My gran mere's not dead!" he exclaimed as he pushed through the crowd of nurses trying to hold him away from the operating room. He put his strength trying to get past the people blocking his way because his grandmother could not be dead, no._

_Finally shoving the last of them away, he reached the operating room where he saw a couple of people in blue plastic-looking gowns covering up a lifeless body on the bloodied bed. It couldn't be his gran mere._

_He stopped dead on his tracks when he felt his breathing quicken and his palms break into a sweat. He felt a deep sensation in his chest like his heart was literally falling. Before he knew it, he was being pulled back and away from the room by multiple hands, but he couldn't really care less._

_He felt the world stop, his vision became blurry and his hearing was clogged with what felt like cotton. He couldn't function properly; what he could hear was only a light buzzing._

_He was too drawn by the feeling in his chest that escalated and now dominated his throat and his head. It wasn't until a soft female voice brought him back to reality that he realized he was sitting on one of the plastic benches plastered on the walls of the hospital._

_He didn't even recognize what she had said. All he knew was that his eyes were welling with unshed tears and his head was shaking with his mouth opening and trying to make words, but he desperately couldn't function well enough to produce a sound. His eyes were unfocused, but he was looking directly at her golden ones for dear life._

_Suddenly, his tears were escaping his eyes and he couldn't take it anymore. He bit his lower lip to try and suppress whatever it was that he wanted to suppress. He shouldn't be like this, vulnerable and breakable in front of her because his job is to look strong and protect everyone. But his heart could not do it anymore._

_He felt her hands trap his face and force him to look at her. He was bound nevertheless to her golden eyes. She was crying, too, but one thing that looked off was that she looked stronger than he felt himself to be. He lowered his lips to hers just to hover for a few seconds._

"_I can't do this," he whispered to her, his breath brushing on her skin._

"_We'll do this together," she replied._

_And then he kissed her because he needed her too much it hurts. His lips moved against hers in a painfully slow and passionate movement while the hands that were on his cheeks moved to his hair, fisting and tugging gently._

He opened his eyes and he wasn't surprised that it was a dream, and nor was he surprised he was still in the hospital. He groaned because he had been dreaming about that girl for a few nights now and his skin was crawling every time he woke up because he knew exactly who it was. He realized that he was still breathing deeply and laboriously and he didn't even know why.

He looked ahead and spotted the wall clock on the wall above the door.

_5:32 am_

He looked beside him and saw Jeff and Nick innocently and awkwardly tangled on the couch, sleeping. He could only smile before looking on the other side to see Santana seated on the plastic chair next to the bed. She was occupying part of the mattress as she rested her head and her left arm on it, fast asleep also.

He looked away, knowing that staring at her any longer would cause his stomach to turn into knots and he didn't want that. He was laughing at himself internally because the last time he had been this vulnerable was… of course, when he was with Amber.

_Nope, not going down that road again._

He had fallen asleep right after the painkillers were put in his IV, so that was about nine hours ago. He remembered seeing Santana storm out of the room with her phone on her ear and her tone frantic. Really, he couldn't care less, but she sounded so panicked. It must be something bad.

He couldn't remember her getting back or Nick and Jeff (probably) arguing who gets to sleep on the couch and—they could have just gone to the hotel then and sleep on their comfortable beds.

He shrugged and looked at the ceiling again, thinking so hard about something else other than his weird dream because it spooked him too much. In a few days, injury or not, he would meet her again because it's practically inevitable. He can't escape her. Not that she's a creepy stalker, but New York has a way of bringing people together no matter how wrong it is.

The last time they spoke was when she said good bye to him at the same time of his grandmother's burial. He was in a deep and bitter place that day and her departure didn't actually help at all. It just made him sink deeper into merciless wallowing.

_Nope, not going down that road again._

What would they actually say to each other? 'Hey, I'm sorry I dumped you for a pothead. Let's be friends?' _**Ridiculous**_.

He heard a little ring beside him so his head whipped towards the direction of the sound. He found that it was from Santana's phone lying beside her and on the edge of the bed. He decided to grab it before it met the floor. He didn't mean to look at the message that popped out, but he read it anyway thinking, _what the hell_.

It was a message from Mike Chang that says,

_San, your grandpa's awake. Please reply as soon as you read this.  
Also, your flight back is in six hours._

Why would this Mike Chang inform her of her grandfather's sleeping patterns? Unless… and so he read on through the conversation and found out that his suspicion was indeed true. Maybe that's why she was upset when she went out of the room talking to her phone.

The text messages were about her grandfather being unconscious and some more updates about his vital signs and statistics. From the looks of it, the situation's not grand. He didn't really know how to feel; should he lay off of her for a while? Or maybe tone down the insults?

It wasn't until a groggy voice spoke that he realized that he hadn't put the phone down yet.

"So, now you know."

He looked beside him and saw her staring at the phone in his hand with her expression blank and void of anything expressive. Her eyes gave away the fact that she had been crying for an excessive amount of time.

It was times like these that he had nothing to say but, "I'm sorry."

A weak smirk curved at her lips, but it was lacking the sharp venom from the past like the ones she used to give him. "Is that what it takes for your balls to shrink?"

He shot her a look that said _'Really?' _before running his tongue in between his lips. Could he really bring himself into insulting this vulnerable looking girl?

A bitter laugh escaped quietly from her lips, making his expression more of curious than disbelieving. He decided to let it pass because she was starting to well with unshed tears again and he did not know how to comfort a crying person, let alone a crying Santana.

Instead, he gave her the phone in his hand for her to read the latest message and looked away, pretending not to see the tears that were now on her cheeks. He laid back down on the bed and stared at his tangled friends who were then snoring in unison.

"I'll be leaving in six hours," she said, her slight crying evident in her shaky voice. "I better get going."

All he could do to her was stare and not make the most stupid retorts, because that's what he's best at. He tried suppressing the little comment he could make about 'accidentally' reading her and Sam's sext, which was surprisingly non-existent.

She stood and was about to exit the room, but then she turned around as if battling whether to say something to him or not.

Finally, she decided. "Get better—I'm looking forward to seeing your ugly face back in New York."

He could only nod wordlessly. What she didn't know was that he caught that small genuine smile that crept up on her lips before she disappeared out of the door.

"—What?"

Then he heard a loud thud and an exclamation of pain before his head snapped to the direction of the sound.

When he found them, Jeff was on the floor, rubbing his ass while Nick was having that shocked look on his face.

In a few days, he would be out of this hospital to face another person he's dreaded to meet again. It was not doing anything good with his queasy stomach.


	8. Read Between the Lines

AN: Hey guys, I am really flattered that people are still reading this. Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. By the way, might have to bring that rating up to M, just to prepare you guys for the succeeding chapters. Maybe not the next, but be prepared.

I would also appreciate your reviews for this chapter, really. It's also a little short, but next chapter would be more than this. I'm babbling. Here you all go.

PS. Read the title of this chapter, do exactly that and you would all go "WOOOOOOOAAAAH".

* * *

In the cameras, she was the perfect girl. She loved her parents and her grandfather and she's a top student. Although she needed assistance every now and then with some of her World History and a little Calculus from Mike Chang, she did well in school and in college; though that was ought to be a secret because to the world, she's perfect.

That's the problem—she isn't. And she discovered that in this world where the media is the most powerful thing, her imperfections wouldn't work well with the image of her perfect family. Everything needed to be fine and organized, every work needed to be filed and worked with until it's done. People don't sleep until they find solace under a 'well done' or 'great job' from their bosses.

She hated life. When kids her age get cars or expensive jewelries as birthday presents, she gets them herself by getting a summer job. Not that her parents wouldn't provide, it's just that she's not fond of living the good life as all her 'friends'.

That's why, as part of her rebellious acts, she urged (threatened) her parents to transfer her to a public school when she was a sophomore. That's where she found her friends when she joined the Glee club. She wasn't stoked about it at first as it was just Quinn and Brittany's decision to join and that she was just dragged in; but she had discovered her new passion: singing and dancing.

It wasn't until Sectionals that her parents found out that she was in the Glee club.

Nevertheless, they pretended to like it until she graduated and they told her that they shouldn't have agreed to have her transferred because then, she discovered her friends and different possibilities—all of which are hindrances according to her parents.

After high school, she was strapped to a plane to New York so that she could stay with her grandfather and learn everything he does as his next heir.

She was ten when she last saw her grandfather. She remembered how excited she was when she was told that her granddaddy would finally come for a visit. She was finally met with the harsh realization that the old man wanted a grandson, not a granddaughter; and if the cruel looks wouldn't clue her in, the straightforward statements would.

Santana didn't get along well with the old man although she was pampered with his gifts as often as her breathing. Every once in a while, she would show her independence to her grandfather by getting drunk somewhere or hooking up with some strangers. This behavior disappointed him so much, but as if taking on the challenge that is his granddaughter, he showed no signs of emotion.

But Santana knew too well how distasteful she acted towards her grandfather.

Have you ever felt the feeling that someone's gone before you could even fix whatever was between you? That was what she felt when she got that phone call from Mike. It's not that her grandfather was gone, but if she doesn't act fast, everything will be too late to fix.

Sunlight was streaming through the huge window of the old man's room and nature was kind enough to show him its best as little birds perched on the window sill and sang to him. He breathed in with difficulty, but was grateful to even be able to do so. It was quiet, except for the beeping of the monitor and the constant hiss of whatever it was beside him that he could not comprehend.

He was back in the mansion, but in his weakest form. No, work was far from his mind, it was his granddaughter that he was thinking of. It had been days since he last saw his beautiful granddaughter and the last time they had talked was when she expressed to him how utterly disgraceful of him to her for him to enlist her in an arranged marriage with someone she didn't even know of yet.

The creaking of the door brought him back to reality and he saw Michael Chang in front of his bed. In his hands was the tray of his meal and a little bouquet of red roses.

"Sir, this is from Alexander Quest, CEO of Madrigal-Quest Enterprise," said the young Asian man as he read the card on the flowers. "He says he wishes for you to get better."

The old man just nodded his head as a response before Michael put the tray on his night stand.

"Santana is here, sir," he said, looking expectantly at him. "Should I let her come in…?"

The old man shook his head quietly.

"But she wishes to see you," he urged, a concerned look on his face. "Is there a problem, sir?"

Michael Chang had been in their family, serving old Gustavo to his full extent, for several years now and the old man had been pretty secure with making him his personal confidante. The young man was a little older than Santana, but his maturity had led Gustavo to believe that whatever he spills to him would be privately between them.

"I don't want to have to look at her and tell myself how bad I am at being a grandfather," he said, keeping a straight face while looking at the view outside the window.

"Don't say that," said Michael, his tone slipping into an understanding one that the older man had grown accustomed to for the past few years.

"Did you know why I agreed to have this fixed marriage without her consent?" the older man asked, now meeting his confidante's eyes with a meaningful look.

Michael only shook his head.

"I was hoping that it will shred her down to a strong girl," he said, a weak smile on his chapped lips. "She and Sebastian complement each other, but contrast each other as well and I thought… I thought I was right. But she was stronger than I had imagined her to be."

Michael nodded at this, "Santana's a lot stronger than she used to be… I have something to say that I hope wouldn't offend you, sir."

"Do tell."

"Santana's complicated and challenging," he said, looking directly at the bed ridden old man. "Much like you are, sir, considering this family has nothing to do with her genetics. You have paved the way of her life most of her younger years, but one day, you have to let her be on her own because she's a grown woman now who can make her own decisions.

"It's time to let her go, sir. She's every bit of a woman now and no one, not even you, can do anything about it. If you don't want to see her, I should tell her right away, sir. But remember, time flies."

Michael was met with a quiet, unreadable expression so he decided, if it did offend him, he should just go and tell the girl that the old man wasn't in the mood to see her at that moment.

He reached the door when the old man called his name weakly. He turned to gaze at him.

"Michael," said Gustavo, a sincere look on his wrinkled face. "Thank you."

The Asian man could only smile and nod before he was gone out of the door.

The hallway was ghostly quiet, but it was just as she had remembered it. She used to take walks through these winding pathways to clear her mind. She would admire the intricate patterns on the wallpapers, the vintage feel of it all. The furniture and figurines were indeed imported and expensive, and they gave the creepiest auras. It was a bright afternoon and everything seemed peaceful, except her mind.

When Mike appeared in front of her with a polite and apologetic smile, she was already prepared to hear rejection.

"I'm sorry, San," he said, sighing. "Maybe some other time. Come on now, you must be tired. Let's get you something to eat."

She stood and accepted his open arms, letting him put them around her shoulders.

Mike was one of the few friends she has in New York. When she first arrived, he presented himself as a 'brother' and had said that she can be open to him at any time. At first, he found his thin smiles and knowing looks menacing, but he helped her get through college by giving her advice. Since then, their bond became like they were connected through bloodlines.

But like her other friends, Mike wasn't oblivious to the fact that she currently loathes Sebastian Smythe with all her heart. So she was surprised when he asked about him.

"I heard that he's injured," he said, joining her in the table, bringing his own bowl of cereal. It was what they had decided to eat together. "Is he alright?"

She looked up from her bowl and gave him a disgusted face. "Look, I don't care if he lives or dies."

He frowned at her playfully. "You don't care about him at all? Not even after everything?"

She shot him a look. "Everything? The only 'everything' we share is our mutual hate of each other's everything."

He raised his eyebrow and deepened his frown, not saying a word. Instead, he focused on his bowl because Santana was shooting daggers at him. He heard her mumble something before he said,

"So, do you have another boyfriend?"

That was when she remembered Sam and the absence of his messages. It had been almost two days since she last received a text from him and she wasn't exactly thrilled about it. His last text was just an empty message and she didn't really know where to go with it so she ignored it.

She looked at him with a coy smile that gave away her answer.

Mike scoffed and gave her a smile. "Tell me about him."

"His name's Sam Evans—

"Son of—

"Yeah, he doesn't want to talk about that," she said, looking down on the mahogany table. "He's…humble and a little bit nerdy, but I like that about him."

Mike gave her a funny look and she couldn't help but laugh at it.

"What are you gonna do about it when you have to get married with Sebastian?" he asked, suddenly turning serious. The change of expression on her face was one from elation to indecisiveness.

"I'm just about to ask him that," she said, looking at the table once again. "I just hope he's willing to wait for me."

Mike whistled. "There aren't lots of guys willing to do that—and that's coming from a guy."

"He's just different, you know," she said. "He doesn't take life seriously. He's just easy-going and good natured, unlike other guys who are too absorbed with work."

He frowned again, but this time it was as if he was thinking deeply about what she had just said. "You know what I think, San? I think you're in love with the _feeling _he's giving you. You love the way he makes you feel like you're normal because he's down to earth and cameras aren't around you. It's just my opinion, but I think you're not in love with the person, you're in love with how he makes you feel."

He was met with a quiet, understanding look, but he knew too well that an opinion like that would take a lot of pressing for it to get to her. She's one stubborn soul to deal with and other's opinions won't make her change her mind.

After all, having known her for a few years now had made him realize that she misses the feeling of being surrounded with real people, as she calls it. She misses the feeling of not being surrounded by cameras and paparazzi and having a private life. Ever since New York, her life had been exposed and nothing is private anymore. He could understand that, but if she falls in love with the wrong person just because she misses the private life, she would face a much bigger consequence in the near future.

His whispers were as quiet as a bug because he didn't want his friends to mock him for his sappiness. Nevertheless, he had missed this bitchy woman and her lovely face.

"Where are you, babe?" the woman spoke from the phone.

He could have answered that immediately, but his foot had just had to be caught stuck inside an invisible bucket inside the janitor's closet.

The cursing and the loud clamor clued her Sherlock-senses in. "Are you in a closet? What exactly are you doing in there?"

"I'm sorry, Jackie," he spoke to the phone. "I can't let them hear me—

"Because they'll mock you, I know," she finished for him with a slight chuckle. It put a subtle smile on Jeff's lips. That laugh, he had missed it. They stayed in a comfortable silence, one that they had grown to love more than the usual bicker they constantly share. If that silence was in person, they would probably be cuddling or something.

He was the one to break it with a question that should probably have an answer by then. "What will we do when they finally meet…again?"

"I don't know, but I just think they should make amends once and for all," she replied, sighing. "Besides, we're just gonna stay for about a week in New York, then I'd be flying to Chicago for endorsements."

She heard a whine from her boyfriend and it made her smile.

"Sometimes, I feel like you don't miss me," said Jeff, and the frown was evident from his tone.

It was this Jeffrey Sterling that she had grown to love; the one who always demands to be loved and to love, the one who keeps her rooted to the ground even with the mild fame she was experiencing, the one who always stands up for her. And if only he could feel how much she missed him, he would swallow his words.

Her tone changed into a seductive purr, "When I get back, I'll _show _you how much I've missed you, babe."

* * *

Another AN: Oh and yeah, d'yall see Mike Chang? He's like, one of my top ten favorite characters. Review!


	9. Public Display of Acquisition

AN: My internet was out for a day so this chapter was supposed to be posted yesterday but as I said... yeah. I'm sorry. I don't really have anything to say other than "Thank you" for reviewing and alerting.

Here's the 9th chapter, please read and review!

* * *

"Two hours!" Jeff announced cheekily, looking at his wrist watch with the biggest smile.

It was natural for him to react this happily about the arrival of his girlfriend, but Sebastian wouldn't be too thrilled about it since she comes with an unpleasant surprise. He could just imagine what their dialogue would be.

'_Hey, Sebastian, do you remember when I dumped you for a pothead? It was fun.'_

'_Absolutely, especially the part where I was almost suicidal. Yeah, it was fun.'_

He huffed in annoyance, surveying the people in the airport. They were all clamoring, going about their businesses and not caring if one of them was plotting to plant a bomb and make this place explode just to not see his ex-girlfriend. It was just unnerving to know that after all, she could and would still face him with a smile.

He was sat on a long bench along with waiting families and Nick, who was casually reading a newspaper beside him. Jeff was standing in front of them, all jumpy and excited about this whole situation. He could not blame him, though, because Jackie Stoltz is a pleasant soul, although a little frank and demanding. She was one of the few friends Sebastian has that he hadn't pushed away yet.

Speaking of pushing away, Santana hadn't talked to him yet since his own arrival in New York. They met gazes when he arrived, but other than that, no more interaction. They hadn't planned to go out yet to show the world their excellent portrayal of lovers so until then, the interaction would have to wait.

_No, he didn't miss her._

That line kept repeating in his head because really, truly, from the bottom of his heart, **he did not miss her**.

* * *

She could see the ground clearly now from where she sat near the window. This was the place she had missed the most. The clouds cleared from her view, giving her full sight of the pavement they were going to land on. She elbowed her friend who was sitting next to her, peacefully sleeping.

She leaned closer and smiled, "We're here, Am."

Amber Amore lifted the sleeping mask from her eyes and looked towards the window, a smile on her beautiful face. "Finally."

They were quietly admiring the view from where they sat when a pretty stewardess appeared on the aisle next to them.

"Good afternoon, Miss Jackie Stoltz and Miss Amber Amore," she greeted, a little nervously knowing she was talking to two famous models. "I hope you liked your stay here. We're ten minutes to landing, do you need anything?"

They gave her kind smiles while Jackie answered, "Uh, no, thank you."

The lady nervously handed them a pen and a paper, probably really a fan because she couldn't speak her request. They took it and signed, knowing that if people were to hand them those, it would either be a contract or a request for autograph. They returned it and smiled at the retreating woman.

Jackie wouldn't be too surprised if they were met with a few fans in the airport, although it would be much harder to find the guys once they were surrounded.

She wasn't wrong because as soon as they stepped foot on the arrival station of the airport, a few girls recognized them and started walking towards them with stoked expressions on their faces. A few people probably noticed that and started recognizing them, too, gathering quite a group of people around them.

Most of the people who gathered around them were teenaged girls, some middle aged women and a few guys, all with pens and papers for them to sign. All she could ever wish at that very moment was to get out of the crowd and find Jeff, but all she could do was paste on her best smile to show the crowd.

She was met with pens and papers too often that she learned that to do it quickly, she need not meet the eyes of the strangers. Just ask them what their names are and then sign it with a little inscription of well-wishes.

"What's your name?"

"Kelly," a little girl with rather imperfect rows of teeth said, smiling.

"Well, Kelly, study hard and keep dreaming," she said, writing the same words on the paper the girl had given her. She returned the grin and turned to her right, having met another pen and paper.

She decided not to look at this stranger; instead she took it and smiled at the paper.

"What's your name?"

Her heart jumped when an all-too-familiar voice answered. "Jeff."

She couldn't be mistaken when a face appeared in her mind because that tone of voice that carried a smile in its tune could only belong to one person.

She lifted her head to meet a bright smile and before the boy knew it, Jackie Stoltz had hung her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently. His own arms wrapped around her waist and crushed her in an embrace, a gesture that shouted how much they had missed each other.

The people around them gasped, but they couldn't care less. It was as if the world had only two people in it, Jeff Sterling and Jackie Stoltz, no one else.

When they pulled away, they were smiling at each other, their gazes never leaving each other. They still held each other as close as possible as the people around them thinned up until no one was left to watch their public display of affection.

"I missed you," he whispered, catching her lips gently in his. She smiled into the kiss and pushed his chest just slightly to pull away.

"Shut up," she replied, but he knew too well that the response was out of love and longing. Behind that 'shut up' was a more real 'I miss you' than anyone could ever tell him.

She caught sight of a person left watching them and quickly recognized that knowing smile and that perfectly combed jet-black hair.

She pulled away from Jeff's embrace and met Nick with a hug. "How's my little bear doing?"

She could only hear a little response from Jeff that sounded like, "Why don't _I _have a nickname?" before Nick answered.

"I'm fine, really," he said, smiling at the tall model. "And please drop the 'little'. I feel small."

She laughed, "You _are _small."

Speaking of small, she could not miss that tall person a few feet away from them, hands in pocket, proud stature and always a small smirk on his lips. But nevertheless, attractive and appealing. He was grinning at her, but was not speaking a word.

But when he nodded at her, she walked up to him and embraced him also, not caring if he was awkward with hugs. He seemed genuinely surprised by the gesture, but hey, she also missed this cocky asshole even if he could really be a douchebag when he was in the mood.

"I'm sorry," she whispered subtly in his ear, knowing too well that the apology was not for the awkward hug but was for the woman behind all of them, smiling at the interaction.

There she was, standing in those glorious heels, making her taller in comparison to Jackie. But, who could deny how lovely this girl is? She was unashamedly staring at Sebastian, suitcase on the ground, hands folded in front of her. Those were still the same golden eyes that had been his life for a long time before it left him cold. Had her hair been dyed darker? It wasn't the same golden brown color, but one of a darker shade.

He had not been wronged. She was smiling like nothing had happened between them. Now he was only waiting for the same conversation that popped up in his head a few moments ago.

"Are you alright now?" Jackie asked, referring to his injury a few days ago. It took his eyes off of the woman for a few seconds.

He nodded with a tight smile, "I'm fine, thank you." But his eyes returned to the woman standing far from them. Jackie noticed this too, but she didn't know what to do.

Amber Amore didn't even care to recognize his two other friends. Instead, she walked straight ahead to Jackie and Sebastian, who was pretty much staring at her with conviction, his head swirling with emotions and curse words.

"Hi, Seb," she purred, putting on her best smile.

He remembered how this was years ago. He had grown to know that Amber has two kinds of smiles, one that she shows the audience in interviews and gatherings. It was one of falsity and unreality, and that it never reached her eyes. Then the other one was of pure happiness. It wasn't a rarity around Sebastian, but she rarely gives it to the media. It was as if that real smile was reserved for his eyes to see.

This smile… it was like she was smiling to a camera, to a person she barely knows. He did not fall for its ingenuity.

He merely nodded at this and it made her smile falter, but nevertheless, she regained her composure and kept the face up. She turned to Jackie with that same smile.

"Where do you think was the rental?" she asked, disappointment was evident in her voice.

Jackie gave Sebastian a meaningful look and then ushered Amber away from them to the parking lot, Amber's suitcase trailing behind her. Jackie's case was with Jeff, and as he dragged it towards Seb who was staring after the girls, he noticed the awkwardness of the whole situation.

Nick was the one who spoke up about it. "So, Amber—

"Don't want to talk about it," he quickly interjected, leaving the duo behind as he brisk-walked towards the exit of the building.

Jeff walked after a few seconds, muttering, "I still don't understand why _the boyfriend _doesn't get a nickname—

"_She _gave it to me," Nick said, flailing his arms up in protest, "I don't have anything to do about it."

* * *

"The stocks were down by six percent last week," said Michael, reading from the newspaper in his hand out loud to the bed ridden old man. "I don't know, Madrigal must have done something wrong or his investors just didn't trust him anymore after that enormous downfall a month ago. He's wasted a lot of money on that deal with the Jacksons."

Gustavo gave him a smile. "We can't blame Quest for picking an idiot as a partner in business. He's an idiot himself."

They shared a laugh at this, something they had shared that whole afternoon.

Anyone would deny it, but the old man was getting weaker with every passing day. Mike observed how his usually youthful demeanor had vanished and was replaced by a negative aura. These laughs that they shared for a few afternoons now had been the only times that he talked to anyone.

What would the media people say? That Gustavo Herrera Lopez is a dying old man whose next heir still hasn't learned how to do the job just yet? That he is slipping away slowly and that the only thing that could save their company was the support they could get from Harrison Smythe, but only if their heirs would wed as union?

He could just imagine what the newspapers say about him. Michael would deny him the pleasure of reading the gossips out loud because he had said it would not do him any good. That probably meant the papers weren't nice about writing about him.

He could just imagine also the big, devious smile on his old rival. He must be having a great time knowing that his biggest competition was decaying on a bed with no one around him to take care of him.

"Michael," he spoke weakly. The young man looked at him with the ghost of the smile they had shared a few minutes ago. "I want you to listen to me carefully. When I'm gone," he caught a look of concern on Michael's face, but before he could speak, he continued, "I want you to tell Santana how proud of her I am. I would never be able to tell her that, so please do."

The Asian man nodded with a thin smile on his lips.

Gustavo returned this with a nod. "Last night, I… have already written my will—

"Sir, I—

"Please let me finish," he said kindly, looking far ahead out of the window. Surprisingly, the sunshine had vanished and the clouds were weeping tremendously strongly. "I want you to know that I am grateful you came into our lives. I want you to accept the college fund for your son and daughter and for Tina, I want her to be promoted to secretary tomorrow."

Michael didn't know what to say. He was shocked, but nevertheless, thankful. But the way he said it was as if he was dying at that very moment and it sent Michael unpleasant shivers.

"You don't know how grateful I am, sir," he said, shaking his head as emotions flooded his eyes. "I also am thankful to become a part of your lives, but until you have yours, everything still has a hope."

The rain was heavy, so was his old heart.

* * *

He was annoyed. No, he was more than annoyed—there wasn't even a word to describe what he was feeling as he was forced to sit inside a car with his ex-girlfriend. But wait, there's more! Guess what, he was seated _next _to her and as if they were packed, she was sitting so close to him he could smell her intoxicating perfume. He couldn't even breathe properly.

Jeff was driving while Jackie sat next to him and they were chatting happily while Nick was near the window, next to Amber who was sitting impossibly close to him. _He couldn't be gladder about this positioning._

He didn't even want to notice her, but she was trying to make conversation with him and it was hard to disregard her voice when she was speaking so near to his ear. It was taking him all the cool to not tell her to shut up and so far so good. But he didn't trust himself to hold off longer.

The engine died down before he could tell her to shut it, thankfully. He was the first one out of the car and the first one inside the shop the couple had picked out for them to have coffee. If it was Santana, she'd rather choose home because she'd be too jetlagged.

_Wait, what? How'd she get into the picture?_

Surprisingly not surprising, they were in the same coffee shop where they frequently go because Jeff didn't know any other good ones out there.

He had this weird feeling he'd meet someone unexpected in this coffee shop, and true to his thoughts, once he entered, the chimes of the door brought the lovely Latina's eyes to his, and of course she was with that blonde trout-looking lizard.

He watched as the Evans guy stiffened in attention when Sebastian met his gaze. He could just give him a cocky smirk before picking a table far from them. If only someone would take his temperature right then because his blood was unbelievably boiling in his veins. As if this day could not get any worse, Amber took the seat next to him and insisted on ordering his coffee for him.

He didn't know she had memorized his coffee order, but he couldn't do anything anymore because she was already on it before he could protest.

* * *

"How about if we go out again tomorrow?" said Sam Evans, his bright hazel eyes gleaming in the sunlight. He held her hand and drew circles on the back of it with his thumb. "Say, the park?"

She gave him her winning smile, but did not miss the slight stiffening when Sebastian walked into the coffee shop just a moment ago. She had shot him daggers, but he just gave a smirk towards Sam and disregarded her existence. It irked her, but she didn't want to show it.

"Absolutely," she replied, noticing how awkwardly he held her hands, or how awkward their stares at each other were. Something was off but she couldn't put a finger on it.

They stayed locked in a stare that used to just be alright with her, but that particular time, it felt wrong.

* * *

He hated this now, because the occasional bumping of their calves weren't accidental at all. She intended to make contact and it was boiling his blood. All the while, he could hear them talking, but he wasn't focusing on anything but his coffee cup. The 'accidental' brushing of their arms, the 'accidental' smiles she was sending his way, the 'accidental' reaching of her hands to get something from his side of the table—all of these have got to stop or he would explode at her. Literally.

There was a beep from her side of the table, and when she took her phone out, her face turned into a shocked expression. Sebastian could only imagine whatever the message had said before she was giving the phone to Jackie and her expression became similar to hers.

"I'm sorry, guys," she said, but most specifically to Jeff who looked like he would cry right then because that look on Jackie's eyes meant that they were leaving immediately. "Amber's step dad just texted, we should get going."

She then turned to Jeff and pulled him up to walk towards the door of the café. Nick followed, too, to say goodbye, but Sebastian walked because he had to get a refill and…okay, say goodbye, but basically just a refill. But he stayed to witness his blonde friend say goodbye sadly to his girlfriend.

Jackie planted a kiss on Jeff's lips, but it didn't get rid of the frown.

What surprised Sebastian most was the feel of Amber's lips on his in a quick peck that caught him **absolutely **off guard. He didn't even have the time to react because she was already out the door. He meant to look at Santana, knowing that she probably saw what happened, but he ended up looking down at his sneakers.

There was a little voice in his head that said that if he had looked into her eyes, he would just feel guilty regardless the reason.

* * *

She saw Jeff being dragged towards the door by a very beautiful woman, then this woman kissed him but he was still pouting like he had been robbed of his favorite toy; the reason, she didn't know, but what made her heart jump was when she saw another beautiful woman pull Sebastian by his collar to let their lips meet in a quick peck.

She didn't even have the guts to watch further for it made her breath hitch and burn in her throat without reason at all, so she resorted into looking at Sam because he was a better view than some chick shoving her tongue down that asshole's throat.

The public display of affection just didn't feel fine with her.


	10. Everyone's Taking Advice

__AN: Hey guys, I really am flattered by the support I get for this. You don't know how swollen my heart is from your reviews. Keep doing what y'all doin' and I will keep doing what I'm doing. It gives me butterflies, really! Thank you.

So as promised, here it is. Hope you enjoy and talk to me through reviews and private messaging.

* * *

_He couldn't hear clearly. There were people around him, talking like he was listening, but he couldn't make out anything from their mouths other than muffled noises. His eyes were severely tired due to lack of proper sleep, but the coffee cup in his hands had helped in keeping him up. He had downed a few of the same strong brew of coffee to keep his consciousness, but his mind was turning into mush and he could not concentrate anymore._

_Everyone, for the past few days, had told him to stay strong and had wished him well in the future. They did not recognize the resignation in his voice when he tells them something in return. They also did not recognize the weakness in his eyes. No one noticed because no one looked deeply enough._

_He had just lost the only person who believed in him in this family. She was the only person who recognized his talents, his dreams and his real being. Losing her was like losing a huge chunk of his sanity because she was one of the people who kept him grounded. The years he spent with her from when he was young up until she was gone were the few most cherished years of his life._

_No one ever believed in him like she did. Now, no one would ever believe in him anymore. Everyone expected him to be his father's son, but she just expected nothing of him but just being himself._

_No one bothered about the weeping boy anymore. Nobody wondered why he hasn't moved from where he was sitting yet, on the seat right in front of the open casket. Nobody cared if he ate or slept, nobody cared if he was still breathing. Nobody cared if he would grieve his entire life, or blame himself for whatever happened to his grandmother. That's because the only person who cared had just passed away._

_He knew he should feel bad, feel sad or something. He knew he should be human and feel emotions, but he felt nothing. He felt like he was just an empty balloon, shape of a human but full of nothing._

_His thoughts were blank, but he felt the hands wrapping around him, recognizing them easily to be _hers_._

_There was a whisper in his ear, and this, he heard clearly._

"_I have to talk to you," she said, but did not elaborate on it further. Instead, she grabbed his hand and led him towards the hallway of the chapel where only a few people could hear them._

_He tried so hard to focus on her hazel eyes, but his vision was restless. Though he did not miss the agile expression on her face and the unexplainable guilt in her eyes. The pit of depression in his stomach deepened at this because there wasn't anything to do but expect the worst. And the worst, it came._

_Her eyes weren't meeting his anymore, but his hands were still in hers. His back was against the wall for support, just in case whatever this was didn't suit his taste or if he just lost his balance._

"_I have to let you go."_

_Suddenly, his hearing had gotten sharper than ever in his life. Those were the words he had dreaded to hear; he just didn't expect to hear it at that time. He didn't even ask why. He just leaned on the wall and scoffed._

"_Really? In my grandmother's funeral?" he asked, giving her a distasteful look. She was about to say something, but he didn't let her. He cut her off and told her to leave and never return. When she was gone, he didn't do anything. He just sat on the floor and buried his head in his arms, shutting the world off._

* * *

It was all unpleasant, his arm around her back, ushering her around to show how much they 'care' about each other. The fake smiles just made her stomach churn in disgust, but she had to mirror the action to show the whole vicinity how 'in love' they are with each other.

Finally, once they were seated on one of the circular tables, which were beautifully hued with red and gold, he untangled his hand from her waist. He ran a hand through his brown locks and sighed, not even meeting her eyes. _Where was the fighting and the insulting?_

He looked ahead and saw the huge banner that said, 'Happy 40th Birthday, Jamey Hall!' in bold silver font pasted on the hugest wall above the packed banquet. People were gathering around it, wine glasses in hands and flattering muses in minds. That was not what made him nervous.

It was that same golden-haired woman meeting his eyes from far away, surrounded by his three other friends. Sure, they hadn't talked since they last met at the coffee shop and shared a short-lived kiss, but if she did ever approach him, he didn't know what to do.

Would he tell her off because of that kiss? Or would he act as if nothing had happened? And he knew, sooner or later, she would drag her unashamed ass towards him and start a conversation just because she wanted to flirt her way into him. Where had the old Amber Amore gone?

Although he must admit, a glance at Santana was a hundred times better than a glance at his ex-girlfriend. If he had drunk some kind of truth serum, he'd cough up how lovely Santana's velvet red gown and the way it matched her devil-red lipstick is. He'd also probably say how beautiful she looked with her hair undone. There was something about her that makes him want to stare longer than allowed.

He pocketed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, he was just too conflicted. They hadn't even said their greetings to the celebrant, but it seemed they didn't have to approach since the silver-haired, tall man by the name of Jamey Hall was making his way through the pack of people to their table with a winning beam. In his arms was his wife who seemed too familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

"Sebastian and Santana," the man greeted with a hearty laugh. "It's so good to see you in my party."

They both stood to meet the kind man, who was actually known to hold the biggest charity in Los Angeles with his business partners. He's a big fan of charity works.

"Happy birthday, Mister Hall," the younger man greeted, giving him a smile and shaking his hand.

The wife, the beautiful brunette, looked at her husband and gave him a playful smile and said, "They probably don't recognize me. I met you two at the park when my little son ran away when we were jogging."

Then it clicked. It was the same woman, just in an elegantly flowing salmon pink gown with her hair up in a bun. Sebastian and Santana shared knowing looks.

"Oh my gosh," Santana said, half-genuinely, "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. But, you look beautiful tonight, Mrs. Hall."

The woman gave her a coy smile. "You, too, dear. How about—

But before she could finish her sentence, a little toddler made his way towards them and then grabbed the fabric of his mother's dress. The little blonde boy looked at the two guests with glee in his eyes; he must have recognized them. The kid was in an excellently tailored tuxedo with a little bowtie, his hand in his mouth again, but his eyes were gleaming under the chandelier light, looking at them.

Sebastian, despite the anxious feeling he had just a few minutes ago, felt somehow lifted when he saw the kid. His face lit up with a beam as he bent down to say 'hi' to the toddler. James waved back and grinned also, hiding coyly behind his mother's dress. Sebastian gave Santana a look and a smile which had come from somewhere unknown.

His parents briefly laughed at them before Jamey spoke, "You must have known my son quite well at the park, eh? I am feeling the need to apologize if ever he pestered you that day."

Sebastian shook his head in response, "No, really. It was fine, and we enjoyed that—didn't we, little James?"

He flashed a grin at the young boy and he returned it with his own youthful one. Stretching back up, he nodded at the older man.

All the while, Santana was taken back to that fateful day, the one when they shared their first public kiss, because right then, it did something different to her sleeping pattern and her interaction with everybody else. So she sighed, because then, she thought it was ridiculously adorable the way Sebastian Smythe interacted with small children, and—damn, how could this happen again?

The men proceeded on talking, walking towards the bar where the light alcoholic drinks were served while the ladies sat in the table and chatted.

The little boy went with his daddy, perching on his lap as he talked to the younger Smythe.

"Have you planned on proposing to her yet?" the older man asked, leaning towards Sebastian. His wrinkled eyes looked at him expectantly; those gray orbs catching him off guard.

He opened his mouth a little, trying to think of the right words to say, because he really was knocked off balance by the surprising question. Had he thought about that? No, they were still under the impression that it's still too early to do something more advanced. Proposing? It certainly did not cross his mind yet.

He lightly shook his head, showing a nervous smile.

The older man raised his brows in question. "Eh, well, you can't fool me, Sebastian. Not with the way you act, no."

His heart dropped at this statement. Was it out? Was he too obvious? Was their hate really that too evident to conceal anymore? His lips slightly parted, trying to swallow the lump on his throat. Had his acting been rusty?

He must admit, tonight was very limited in terms of interaction between them. What he didn't know was what made that little pit in his stomach every time she decided to spare a glance at him or even just towards his direction. If she did not want anything to do with him tonight despite the publicity of the event, he would spare her none of his acting.

That was what made him nervous. Had he really been that careless?

To his surprise, Jamey Hall laughed. "You can't fool me, young man. I know when a man loves a woman deeply by the way he looks at her. You have been nothing but ogling at her tonight. At first, I thought you were having some kind of trouble with your relationship, but I couldn't be more wrong.

"See, young man, if you truly love a woman, you can't see anyone in this whole room but her."

But…

"That's how I see my wife tonight," he continued, taking a sip from his tall wine glass. "—uhm, this is good—I have been in love with my wife for 20 years now, it's amazing. You know, I was a playboy when I was younger. Oh the life back then, I thought it couldn't get better. The girls were always easy to get especially when you flash a little money—it would lure them in," he gave a little chuckle as if those words weren't intentional.

"I thought that was it, that I would die a bachelor and enjoy life. When I saw Amelia, I didn't know she would be the love of my life," his eyes travelled to the lady sitting in the table, his old eyes twinkling in reminisce. "It happens before you know it. It's swift and mysterious and just about every bit as surprising as the villain in a horror movie. But those years you spend in love will be the happiest years of your life."

He could not help it as his head turned to look at Santana, his gaze fixed on her laughing at something Amelia had said. _She looks eternally beautiful when she does that._

_What—?_

There was nothing to describe the burning of his throat and the slight tingling of his brain as he looked at the gorgeous Latina in all her glory. His mind was now contradicting his actions, to why every time he heard the word love, he would think about Santana, to why whenever someone mentions 'beautiful' he thinks about Santana, to why every time he does think about her, that lone thought would spread through his mind and linger there all day. That happened almost every single day.

He forced himself to look away and back to the man he was talking to, but it took him a few more convincing by his own mind before he fully did so.

Out of full-time curiosity, he asked, "How did you know… you know, when you're in love?"

Jamey smiled at him, "Body language, son. It's all about how you react. When people say, let's see, the pronoun 'her', you think about _her _even if no one was specific about it. I wasn't aware of it when it started. I was just fine with everything, but when I saw her with someone else, I was too furious that I lost a lot of really important sleeps back then.

"That didn't end there, actually. I was too proud to accept rejection and I know that, but when I received it from her, I felt like the world had crashed down on me. That was when I realized I was in love."

Jamey looked far ahead to the banquet, but it was evident he was probably thinking about those old times. He shook his head with a small smile, then said, "You're young and you have a lot of future ahead of you. But love isn't something you can withhold. If it finds you, keep it. When you feel the need to let go, let it be. If it's meant for you, it will come back. And when it does, it will be yours forever."

"Come on now, JJ," said Jamey, speaking to his son. "We have gifts to unwrap!"

The little kid looked at his father with a big smile. "Gifts?"

"Yeah, for daddy's birthday," he replied, kissing his little cheek. The boy wrapped his little arms around his father's neck and pressed a kiss on his stubbly chin.

"Happy birthday, daddy!"

Jamey Hall gave Sebastian one last look and said, "I shouldn't have said so much. But if ever you will send out wedding invitations, send one my way, okay?"

Sebastian nodded with a light laugh. "Yes, thank you."

He watched as the father-son duo walked towards the huge table filled with elegantly wrapped and stacked boxes.

* * *

It didn't take Santana a second look to distinguish that blonde young man with the full lips standing near the banquet. He turned to meet her gaze and smiled. It was Sam Evans in a tuxedo, greeting Jamey Hall a happy birthday. They spent a good five minutes just staring at each other since Sebastian was still on one of the stools surrounding the bar and no one would actually care if they undress each other with their eyes.

The good lady Amelia had returned to her husband with a curt nod and a wave of farewell, leaving Santana alone in the huge circular table. It took Sam Evans about three seconds to reach her, his strides longer than normal. When he did reach her, he immediately took her hand and led her to an empty hallway out from the event hall, even when she protested and said something about the guy who punched him.

He didn't take his time. The moment they were out of earshot, she pinned her to the wall with his body and kissed her hard.

Santana had enjoyed Sam Evans' kisses for quite some time now, but this time, she contemplated. But that contemplation only appeared from her when his mouth decided to latch on her neck, just below her jawline.

"Sam, what are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, trying to focus on the words rather than the sensations she was feeling, but it was hard enough to make her stumble with her words.

Sam stopped to look at her directly, "You look really ravishing in that dress, really, _really _hot."

It was one of the numerous compliments she had received that evening, one of the many stares and awed looks from other guests, but he was one of the most memorable, along with Sebastian's open-mouthed reaction when he came to pick her up from her room.

She just loved making the enemy feel weak.

_Wait, it's Sam, not Sebastian. Get the fuck over it!_

She put on her best mischievous smile and said, "Let's take this somewhere else, baby."

It turned the young man on more than he thought it would. So, taking a quick peck on her lips, he instantly grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall towards the exit to his parked car.

_Daddy's advice is really great._

* * *

"Anything strong," he gestured to the bartender who nodded obediently before turning his back on the disgruntled young man. Once the drink hit the space in front of him, he downed it in one swallow, hissing as the strong scalding pain hit his throat.

He let the glass hit the bar table with a loud clunk as he looked over to the seat the Latina had just left with that dumb-looking blonde. He felt the buzz immediately taking over his own senses.

Whatever, her world would go on without him, anyway.

He did not know it but that thought hurt him more than it ever should. He felt his blood boil in his veins, making his vision a little blurry and refracted, but nevertheless, he found Amber's stare on him again. This time, she was alone and drinking some kind of wine from a glass from one of the servers going around.

He felt all the care thrown out of the window as his feet decided to walk towards the golden-haired woman as briskly as he could. He felt the world sway, but he didn't care about it.

He could see the smile widening on that evil girl's face and it made him wonder how a few years could change a person. Just a lifetime ago, he had seen her as nothing but an angel. Now, he couldn't see a trace of that in her.

He did not hesitate on pulling her towards one of the exits of the event hall by her arm, her pool of navy blue dress whipping around the floor as she kept up with his drunken pace.

He threw her to the wall unceremoniously, hearing the surprised gasp escape her lips. The looks on her face was a mix of shock and expectations and it confused the shit out of him.

But he didn't think about it twice when he connected his lips with hers in a rough fashion, one that screamed drunk and angry. She was stiff at first, but her hands found their way to his hair, tugging at it suggestively. She pulled at it hard enough to yank him away to speak a few hurtful words.

"Where did your _girlfriend _go, huh? She left you for someone else?"

His eyes narrowed at this, making his blood boil at another higher temperature. This girl was testing him, thinking he would go down and make a fool out of himself admitting that he's broken. But he wouldn't. He wouldn't because he's angry as hell and no one can make him bend on his knees.

But he couldn't think straight right that time, and all he wanted was to feel something else other than the bubbling anger in his heart. The pressing of her body against him, the warmth of someone alive, _she _was just enough to pass this feeling.

He breathed in sharply as her hips hit his own, feeling the friction. He growled inhumanly and roughly grabbed her hair.

"Fuck you," he spoke, his breath smelling of alcohol, conviction and just pure anger. There was something about this whole arrangement that turned him on more than it should.

So, about ten minutes later at twice the speed limit, they found themselves at a hotel, shredding each other's clothes off, skin on skin, lips on lips, anger and loathing evident with every scratch and drawn blood and ripped clothing.

The sweat would be from the activity, the venomous spit of sex and just the pure exhilaration, but the blood was from the hunger to feel something. It was painfully real with every thrust and with every nail digging down on bare skin, but it was enough to bring him back to reality and then to the surreal world as he imagined brown orbs gazing straight into his green ones, instead of the hazel eyes in front of him.

"_Santana."_

It came out of his mouth before he could even think about it, and right about the time they both came down from the high of their climax.

There was a mix perplexity and mischief in Amber's eyes as she heard the breathless whisper.

She felt the need to ignore it and make him take her again by pulling him down closer to her and planting a deep kiss on his mouth, and he did just that because she could feel the desperation with his every action. She loved the feeling of Sebastian, the asshole, crumbling in her touch.

* * *

It had not been the first time they had a go at it, but this time, Santana felt something wrong. It felt really wrong and there was no other word to describe it.

But, when it feels wrong, it's right, right? Because that's how she was supposed to feel about all of this. The feeling of him inside of her, the light kisses and the gentle caresses, this should feel wrong because she should not be doing this since she's supposed to be with 'someone else'.

She took the unusual feeling as a good sign, a sign that she's just about as human as everyone else and that she _liked _how this felt. It was dangerous and treacherous, just like every cheating.

But, why did this feel like an actual cheating? This all felt genuine all of a sudden and it scared her, but she continued, trying to shake the unnecessary feelings away.

His kisses just reminded her of the ones she and Sebastian had shared, the way his warm lips moved against hers and the surprising fluttering feeling in her stomach—damn it!

She moaned, if not genuinely, just half, because she didn't feel like it anymore. She enjoyed doing it with Sam some other night, but tonight was an exception. And God, she was just too conflicted she didn't even know which is which anymore.

They said girls are good at faking orgasms, but Santana was exceptionally practiced and excellent at it because when she did, Sam had given himself a proud smile before kissing her lips gently and rolling off of her to the other side of the bed.

* * *

The New York City skyline was glorious at night, but equally enchanting during the wee hours of the morning, Samuel Evans, Sr. had thought as he faced the humongous window of his office in the high rise building. He was aware of the guest he had invited who was now sitting behind him.

"First of all," he spoke, smiling to himself. "I would like to welcome you to New York. It has been, what, a year since you last step foot on the grounds of the Big Apple. It certainly is good to be back, isn't it?"

The woman behind him laughed with her velvety voice, "It certainly, truly is, Mister Evans."

Samuel turned around to look at the lovely female behind him, sporting his best business smile. "How's New York been treating you, Miss Amore?"

That lovely golden hair, those gleaming hazel orbs, it all belongs to none other than Amber Amore.

She smiled her perfect smile, "Everything is—and will be—going great once I'm done with what you wanted me to do."

Samuel laughed at this, giving Amber a satisfied look. "I know it would, darling."


	11. To Pretend

They always say that you never regret doing the things you love, the things that make you happy. They always say that if you choose a path that satisfies you, regret will never come. But you know, regret always comes last, they also say.

She woke up on Sam Evans' bed when she felt the subtle heat of the rising sun as the sunlight escaped the curtains of the half-closed windows. She fought to remember what happened last night, but all she remembered was the guilt and the feeling of cheating in her gut.

_Just how did sleeping with the man you love become cheating?_

She knew she should have enjoyed last night, the free-wheeling feeling, and the moments and shit because she loves Sam and sex with him should be naturally good and regret-free.

So why, why did that snaking hand around her waist felt wrong and distant? Why did it never feel good anymore? Had she lost the necessary feelings to call Sam Evans her boyfriend?

Her heart dropped at the thought as Sam's rock hard body pressed behind her. She felt his face meet her hair, breathing in her scent. He smiled at the familiar scent of her shampoo and sex, but he was perplexed as to why she was still as a rock although he knew she was awake.

He decided to nip at her earlobe, trying to get her to react or something. "Santana," he mumbled, "are you okay?"

She contemplated on whether to tell him the truth or just go with his flow. She decided to do the latter.

"I am," she said as she turned to face him, a smile on her face. He leaned in and kissed her, but the plan to deepen it was interrupted when she heard her phone ringing and vibrating incessantly on the night stand beside the bed. She hastily pulled away from his lips and grabbed the thing before it hit the ground.

She saw the caller ID and sighed exasperatedly.

"What, Twink?" she spoke, irritation in her voice.

There was some kind of shuffling on the other end of the line before Sebastian spoke. His voice was groggy and disgruntled, like he had just woken up. "Where are you?"

She gazed over at Sam because she knew he was looking at her with a questioning expression. She could only give him an apologetic look before speaking again.

"Why do you care?"

He found himself trying to get out of the woman's arms and walking as far away as he could from the bed, so he found himself in the bathroom instead.

"…Just… tell me where you are," he said, looking at his distasteful look in the mirror. He looked bad, really. If it was just any other day, he would even compliment himself whilst looking at the mirror, but that particular time, he could not bring himself to think of a good thing to say to his face. "Are you home?"

What's wrong with him? So, maybe he got drunk after she left and, what, hooked up with some hoe at the party. So, why did that boil her blood?

"No," she replied briefly, standing up and gathering her things. She heard Sam calling out to her and asking why she was leaving early. All she could do was give him a quick kiss and another apologetic look before sauntering towards the door and out of the room.

He heard the male voice say something to Santana and figured that… yeah, the trout-mouthed bastard was indeed at the party and he did not dream about the way he snatched the Latina out of his sight and into some place to have…

"Hey, meerkat-face, are you still there?" she asked, trudging down the humongous staircase of the Evans household, trying to go by unnoticed.

"Yeah, I am," he said, "tell me where you are."

And she did tell him to meet her at some public park before an elderly man walked past her and only stopped when he noticed Santana.

She did not even have to look a second time to know that it was indeed Sam's father.

Samuel looked at the girl and figured out everything, from her appearance to the surprised and somehow ashamed look on her face, that Sam had indeed taken his advice. He smiled a little to himself and to Santana. Her breath suddenly hitched at the sight of the older man in his business attire, ready to go to work or something. She was supposed to come by unnoticed.

"Good morning, sweet heart," he greeted, taking the coffee mug in his hand to his lips and sipping a little.

She met his gaze with a perplexed expression, but she greeted back nevertheless before scooting away and out of the vicinity.

* * *

He hurried as he gathered his bearings and went out of the bathroom to escape unnoticed. But that plan has already failed as he returned and saw Amber sitting up then with a predatory smirk on her lovely face. She was smiling as if she had been waiting for him to come out from there for a while now.

"Why're you in a hurry, _love_?" she asked, checking him out from head to toe.

Sebastian met her gaze, but did not entertain her question. Then and there, he could feel the anger inside him bubbling again to a new extreme with every word escaping her venomous tongue. He went on trying to gather his clothing and his things and fighting so hard to tune her out.

He was doing an exceptionally good job ignoring her and was about to go out the door and let her be, but then she had to go say something that made him explode.

"_How about I tell the world what we did last night, huh? That would make you a cheating bastard!"_

He could not control himself anymore. His feet brought him back to the bed, fuming. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the mattress with all his might, not even caring if it hurts her. She was looking at him with a satisfied smirk, as if his anger was her victory. And he fucking hated her because there was something about her that seemed off and unusual with the way she talks and moves. It irked him.

"You try," he whispered, his face hovering just a few inches from her evil smile. "You fucking try, Amber. You won't know what hit you."

She scoffed, looking directly to his core. "Does that make you angry, sweetheart?"

Their breaths were clashing, his anger was showing through his contorted expression, but she was unharmed by all of it, it seemed. His grip on her wrists tightened inconsiderably, making her wince a little and lose some of her composure, but she regained it with another smirk.

"You don't know how much I fucking hate you, Amore," he hissed at her.

She narrowed her eyes, keeping the little smirk and tilting her head at him. _"Say my name again, love."_

He laughed, but not a jolly one. It was of condescension and just pure hatred. He just humorlessly laughed and left her there, naked and plotting. She wasn't who she used to be anymore, there's no reason for him to treat her like the way he did years ago.

* * *

It was irritably sunny and noisy at the park where she chose to meet him. She had reasoned out that it was just a few blocks away from where she ended up spending the night and instead of making a fuss and luring the media into where she had disappeared into the night, she decided they meet in a public place.

She decided to walk, not even bothering if someone's waiting for her at the park. She just wanted to clear her mind for a while and just sort out the tangled mess that was her feelings. She kept telling herself that she had enjoyed the night with Sam, her boyfriend, and that everything was fine. But even she couldn't believe that lie.

There was something at the back of her head, nagging and trying to make her realize something. But she was stubborn enough to ignore it completely.

She reached the park, but her head was still a mess, so she finally gave up and dismissed the matter to only be mingled with later when she had the time. She let her eyes scan the area for signs of a tall, brown-haired guy and thank God he was just a few strides away from the edge of the park. He was seated under a brooding tree on a bench, his head ducked and his hands in his pockets.

He spotted her also, so he stood and met her with a… big smile? He opened his arms to accept her in a…hug?

What, is she still asleep?

No, she quietly bit her inner cheek and she wasn't dreaming. It was Sebastian meeting her for a hug with a smile. As if that wasn't enough to make her confused, when he met her, he instantly wrapped her in a tight embrace and kissed her fervently.

She almost forgot they were doing some kind of theatrical play in front of the whole world. But it still surprised the hell out of her whole being because this seemed almost too natural.

She could distinguish the distinct taste of coffee and some kind of mint when he decided to push his tongue towards the opening of her mouth. She could not help but shut her eyes and revel at the warmth of his lips on hers.

He didn't mean to make it deep, but once her lips were on his, he was immediately carried away. If that wasn't enough, the arms around her waist were constricting her in a way that would have earned him a slap across the face. But she was responsive in a whole other way and it wasn't about inflicting pain or insult.

She was kissing him back. And with just enough reciprocated strength. He made a sound at the back of his throat, one that showed his surprise and the shocking pleasure of her body pressed against him. And hell, he wished he didn't need oxygen because if they pull away, he would have to come back to reality that he's supposed to hate her.

He pulled away and buried his face in her hair, whispering subtly, "I saw paparazzi behind the black car. Come on, smile and grab my hand."

She nodded. _That explained a lot_. What she didn't know was that the little pit in her stomach had just gotten deeper upon knowing that it was, in fact, another gesture for show.

She snaked her arms around his, earning a little jump from him and a clearing of his throat. She chose one of her display smiles that gives off the vibe that she's happy or something vibrant. They walked to the parking lot, but the inevitable questions were raised.

"Where were you last night?" she asked, trying to make the whole topic about him because she could not bring her own yet since she was still confused. Her voice lacked the sharpness in them, but he figured it was just because they were in public.

If he told her the truth, that he slept with his ex-girlfriend and woke up still hating her, would she say anything? Of course not, she didn't have anything to do with him since _she _slept with that Evans boy, too, and that evens them out. But on what grounds were they even?

He licked his lips, trying to calm his nerves because the hand in his grip was giving him some kind of electric shock that he couldn't explain no matter how hard he tried.

"I… was with Amber," he said, and then thinking she knew nothing about her, he added, "My ex-girlfriend. She was in the party, too."

He felt her hand squirm in his grip, or twitch or something and it puzzled him.

"Where were _you_?" he asked in return, giving her hand a slight tug. She looked up at him with those broken eyes and it gave him shivers, which was definitely uncalled for.

She looked down and away because the guilt was eating her away. If she told him the truth, what would he say? Would he even care? No, she was sure of it, but her beating heart was incessantly reminding her that the only reason she didn't enjoy the night with Sam was because of Sebastian.

"I was with Sam," she replied, not having the guts to look at him and she didn't freaking know why.

Finally, after a long thirty-second walk, they both spotted the elegant Lexus that belonged to the young Smythe. She didn't know why he was being a gentleman all of a sudden by opening the door to the passenger seat, and by holding her hand a little longer before letting go and going around the car to the driver's seat, but she was sure it was giving her some kind of feeling that she could not shake.

He sat on the driver's seat and started the engine, but he did not drive right away. Instead, he turned his head towards her with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

She knew there was something he wanted to say, but she was clueless as to what it is. She just felt the same guilt in her guts as he scanned her with those green eyes.

Any other day, those questioning eyes would be enough to kill her, and she admits that, but that particular time, it was the pregnant silence that wafted around them. The only noise she could hear was the slight buzzing of the engine and nothing else. But in her mind, she was screaming, begging for him to speak or to say something—just not the weird eye contact.

So, when he didn't speak, she did. But it may have just been the stupidest question.

"Tell me honestly," she spoke. "Why did you punch Sam?"

His eyes fell ahead to the view outside the windshield, trying to mask the sudden pricking conscience that struck him as soon as the question fell from her mouth. Now, he was supposed to answer that question with utmost honesty because there was no escaping it now… and he owed her an honest answer after having given her false ones.

And she knew that he probably would think what a stupid inquiry that was since she had asked that question a couple of times in the past and he had given her the same answers, so why would she expect him to give her a different one that time?

He sighed. "I saw him… with another girl."

Did she hear it right? If she did, what then? What would he care if Sam was with another girl? If anything, he should be happy that a man would be breaking her heart because they were enemies, right? And wait, why was she not moved by that revelation? She should be.

Her confusion was etched on her face rather clearly, but her voice gave it away. "Are you serious? Why would you punch him if that's the case?"

His reaction was rather surprised, "So, what, you don't care that he cheated on you?"

She inhaled to calm herself, but it wasn't doing any good. "I do, maybe later when my head is clearer. But the question is: why would _you care_?"

He scoffed and smirked, but it wasn't for her and she could see that. He was smirking at himself and the reason wasn't obvious, but his answer gave it away.

"I guess it's because I know how it is being cheated on," he said, a humorless laugh at the end. "It hurts as hell and you wouldn't want that to happen especially when you're trying to cope up with someone's loss. Or, in your case, your grandpa's fragile state. _Not a good combo._"

"And you care that I got cheated on?" she asked.

She was met with silence again and she could not take it, so she said, "I thought we were enemies."

That was what brought him back to the real world.

"We are," he said, his tone as cold as steel and as hard as a rock. "At least I thought we are. I just don't know how long this would have to last because we're both withholding the past few days just because of this damn arrangement! It's hard to-to let this happen—to prolong whatever this is because it's damn hard to pretend!"

_It's hard to pretend that you're pretending when you're not anymore._

That's what he should have said. Because the pain in his chest every time she was stolen from under his nose by that Sam Evans was real, even more real because it was slowly becoming physical.

She looked more confused. "So, you wanna call if off?"

That came out weakly and she regretted how vulnerable it sounded. It sounded as if she didn't want him to do so, and it felt like she was pleading him.

"We really can't do that, can we?" he said, meeting her eyes and looking away as immediately. "As far as I can see, we're stuck."

She stared ahead as the car started moving, trying to block the thoughts about him and her getting married, living under the same roof (which, they already were doing), not having children because they don't want any connection towards each other, getting a divorce after maybe three painful years, but still going to manage the shared company to satisfy their authorities.

So she thought, could she stand years of pretending? Sure, she withstood days of theater performances during high school when they played West Side Story, but those were just for a few hours in just a few days.

"I have a boyfriend now," she said and it came out of nowhere.

"Yeah, a boyfriend who cheated on you," he said, trying to focus on the road.

"I love him," she replied.

He chuckled sarcastically, "Yeah, you do."

She looked at him with furrowed brows, "What was that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head, but kept the smirk on his lips. "I don't know—he cheated on you but you seem like you don't even care. I don't know what that is, but it isn't love as far as I'm concerned."

"It's just a phase in a relationship," she countered, "and we're gonna get through that. He's gonna wait for me until we get _our_ divorce and then we would get married—

"Yeah, let's see how that waiting will go," he volleyed back. "He couldn't even wait for you for a day, and there he went, locking lips with some dumb hoe in a bar—what the hell is wrong with you?"

"As I said, my head isn't clear right now," she replied, looking down. "I may or may not have some feelings that I can't shake right at this very moment and I'm just too tired of thinking about things. All I wanna do is take a shower and lay in bed all day."

He sighed. He had been harsh with his words and he knew that, but she had to realize how wrong this was. But he guessed he couldn't knock some sense into her if she's conflicted and exhausted.

"Just shut up and lean back," he said, retreating into the silence.

His foot hit the gas pedal and they eased into the highway in a rather comfortable silence after that statement. He watched briefly in traffic as her head lolled towards him, her eyes closed in sleep or just pure exhaustion, he did not know. What he did know was that he had just confessed some deep care to her and he was feeling the need to figuratively jump off a cliff or something.

* * *

**AN**: Hey guys. So, I stayed up late to finish this chapter so if any of you find this rather ugly and really bad, just tell me. I'd do better next time. Anyways, hit up the review button and tell me what you think.

And a quick recap, the last bit from the previous chapter was a time jump so it may or may not have happened in the future. It may have happened in the past, who knows, right? But, damn, evil Samuel and Amber, eh?


	12. Nevermore

How will you tell a broken girl that a loose end will never be tied? How will you hit a fragile ceramic with a hard hammer and not break it? Mike Chang loves Santana Lopez to the extent that he will do everything to see her happy, just like a brother she never had, she had said. He had grown to love the stubborn Latina despite her persistent defiance of the odds. To his opinion, that was what made her rare.

But today, he must break the little shell she calls her own home and tell her something that will definitely alter her. He hated that it was him who would be doing this to her, but he'd better be, because he had to make sure of so many things.

Even he had to deal with his own grief, but he had to fast forward through that to appear strong in front of his 'little sister'. This would be really hard.

He inched towards her door, trying so hard as to not make any noise. It's six in the morning and she should be sleeping.

It had been almost four hours since it… happened. He had let the grief wash over him for half an hour and then nothing more. All he did afterwards was to tell every concerned human being the news, all the _real _friends and family. After all those calls and those inquiries, after having encountered crying friends on the phone, there was only one person left to call. She's sleeping soundly on her bed and he was having second thoughts as to whether he'd tell or not.

He just plainly doesn't want to see her heart break.

He looked at her then as a little girl, tangled in between her white sheets, her chest rising up and down in accordance to her deep breathing. His steps were quiet, but his heart was pounding. To tell it in full honesty, he was not ready yet. The old man was a father to him, and through the six years he had served him, never had anyone seen him be himself except Michael.

He figured, telling Santana last would ease the pain, but it was his weakest decision yet. Waking up to this…

He shook her shoulders gently, watching as her eyelids flutter and open partially enough to recognize Mike. He has this tight smile painted on his lips as if he was restraining something. His eyes, although not that evident, were bloodshot. Had he been losing sleep? Her mind was a little mushy, but she was fine.

He made her sit up straight, looking at her, searching for some kind of… she didn't really know what he was searching for, but he looked weary. She smiled to at least let him know that she's alright, but that tight smile didn't change.

"Whatever I will say," he said, looking directly at her eyes, "you should never, _ever _blame yourself."

That didn't sound like good news would come her way. Her heart pounded in her chest as she contemplated on the meaning of the look on his face, because whatever it is might just bring her something unwanted.

That little nod from her, it might mean she's ready to hear it, but he knew in his heart that she wasn't; but he should, so he did.

"Your grandfather…" he said, pausing to look at her if ever she gets it, but her eyes remained expecting. "_He's dead._"

He watched as her jaw dropped just a little and he swore he saw her heart break in front of him, smashing into little pieces because her eyes, they tell everything. That's her weakness; she may seem like she could carry the world on her shoulders, but when it comes to emotions, she'd crumble because her eyes give them away. Only a few people know her like he does and at that very moment, he just wanted to lock her in an embrace.

And he did. He put his arms around her, one across her back and one in front of her, but not tightly, just enough to hold her although she was unmoving. It felt like hugging a stuffed toy which does not move nor react. He just wanted to bring her back.

He buried his face in her hair as he felt her hands cling on the arm around the front of her shoulders. He smiled a little and tightened the embrace.

"He… can't do that," she said, tears taunting to mark her voice. "We're not _done _yet."

Mike knew exactly what she was talking about. "He said… he said he's proud of you because you're strong… stronger than him. He's proud of you even if you're not _his _granddaughter."

She bit her lip, trying so hard to push the tears back. _They're not done yet_. She could feel her whole body trembling and shaking inside Mike's embrace. She could not help it; her body was just moving on its own accord. The tears, they escaped and ran down her cheeks and into Mike's sleeve.

They were not done yet. She still has a lot to prove, a lot of achievements that she wanted him to see. They're not done yet because she's still weak and she still was a little girl to him. She wanted to grow and prove to the world that she's enough, but most of all, she wanted to prove it to _him_.

It's too late.

Then it hit her. Her grandfather is dead. She felt her chest fill with a heavy feeling, as if her lungs were being filled in with water. It was as if the tears were thinking on their own, flowing freely from her eyes.

She gently pushed the Asian man away, freeing herself from his gentle embrace not because she wanted air but because she wanted to be alone. To deal with this on her own.

Michael gave her an apologetic look, but she leaned in and kissed his cheek, giving him a smile. He returned the broken grin because he knew what it meant.

He stood and turned for the door, but taking a last glance at the crying girl.

"Thank you," she muttered before Mike disappeared from the door.

* * *

Sebastian watched as his phone rang incessantly on his night stand. He decided against picking it up, seeing that it was from Harrison Smythe and he really didn't want to talk to his father that time. But he did rise from his bed and pick it up with a sigh.

"_Son", _his father greeted. _"I have news—Gustavo had just passed away—I know it's sad, boo hoo, but hear this, I know that you hate his granddaughter and this will probably make you happy: you're free from the arrangement! Good bye now."_

He could not insert even one word through his father's statement and when it ended, he was dumbfounded. He did not know what to feel because his father seemed so nonchalant about the loss. He felt like he should not have the privilege to mourn because all he heard from the old man was a little piece of advice. Only one thing—or person—entered his mind after that phone call: Santana.

He found himself putting on a decent pair of jeans and a worn out white shirt and walking down the hall with his mind floating. It felt like he was walking without any sense of direction because he was walking towards Santana's room just a few doors from his. From afar, he saw the Asian man, Mike Chang, exit her door, walking slowly down the hall and taking a left turn in the intersection.

Her door was ajar and he could not help but sneak a little peek through the crack. He didn't see Santana. He saw a girl, curled up into a little ball on the floor beside the bed and visibly shaking. Her knees were meeting her chest as her arms were wrapped around her thighs.

He stood petrified on that very spot, not having the will to pry his eyes away from the broken little figure in white in the dim room. He felt the need to hold her and tell her that things will be alright, and then she can lash him out in any way she wants, but he will not protest because he wanted her to let the anger and remorse inside her out. He inched towards her door, but his steps stopped when he saw her head lift to meet his gaze. His breathing hitched.

Her eyes were bloodshot; her lower lip was hidden as she bit on it, an attempt to stop the tears. Unfortunately, it didn't work that well. She was already crying and his feet… his heart felt like it was pumping out of control as his feet dragged him towards the open crack of the door, his hand pushing it open and letting himself in.

He didn't even let his mind take over now because he would only be met with his own mockery towards what he was about to do.

He sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. All the while, he was waiting for her to push him or slap him, something painful, because that was who she was after all. But instead, she didn't mind the strong arm around her and even scooted closer, making his heart beat faster than normal.

He coughed to clear his throat, making her look up at him.

He was stiffly holding her because it felt so awkward that he didn't know what to say to fill the silent air around them. He didn't even know if he should talk or anything—hell, he didn't know how to console a person. He was just absent-mindedly running his thumb up and down her arm's smooth skin.

"E-everything will be f-fine," he said and mentally cursed himself for being so nervous. That stutter was like a deep gash on his ego.

He was just waiting for her to punch him, but instead, he heard a soft laugh that shook her body a little. It startled even the sleeping neurons in his brain because it was so unlike her.

"You're so bad at this," she said, her voice scratched because of the crying, but there was something odd in her tone. It was as if she appreciated his presence at that very moment. He then wondered whether to give her a scathing comment or just pretend like he didn't hear her.

He decided on the first one.

"Please, this isn't what I came here for," he replied, trying to smirk at her, but it turned into a frown as he heard more laughter from her.

"What did you come here for?" she asked, pressing closer to the warmth she needed right then. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, she should be pushing him away, but he was there and he was warm… everything she needed. She let her head rest on the crook of his neck.

All of her cautions were thrown out the window as she let her heart guide her actions. This, her head on his shoulder, the arm around her, they were all according the need of her heart. Her grandfather's dead, she needed comfort and although she had told him earlier that he sucked at it, she was actually feeling a bit better.

He, on the other hand, could not think of a valid reason as to why he was staying with her. There wasn't a good reason for his presence there, he just wanted to see if she was okay. Apparently, she wasn't so he went on ahead to try… and comfort her. He lied, though, because that was the best he could do. It just disappointed him a little that he couldn't comfort her like he wanted.

"I came here because I—I actually—there's no, I mean—I came here…" he paused to scold himself in his head because he was acting like a nervous pimply teenager who had just made contact with his crush. He composed himself thereafter, saying as weakly as possible so as not to let her hear it at all, "_I came here to see if you're okay_."

She only hummed to let him know that she heard it loud and clear.

_When you try your best but you don't succeed,  
when you get what you want but not what you need_

"Did you know that I was adopted?"

She didn't know where that came from, but it flowed right out of her mouth and into the thin air they shared. Her heart, it was fluttering as she heard her own words reaching his ears. But right at that moment, she felt like there was no one on this Earth but him and her. It was as if telling him wouldn't matter.

_When you feel so tired but you can't sleep,  
stuck in reverse._

_And the tears come streaming down your face,  
when you lose something you can't replace._

_When you love someone but it goes to waste,  
could it be worse?_

"My mother and father… they couldn't afford anything in life… they committed suicide together…" she said, trying to contemplate why she was saying those, but she couldn't. "I was in the orphanage in an early age…"

* * *

_There was a pause as his head turned to look out the window which showed nothing but darkness and specks of light from the far away buildings._

_He had called Michael that time to come into his room and be with him. He said he wanted to tell a story and he wanted Michael to hear it. The Asian man wished with all his might that this wasn't what he didn't want it to be._

"…_did you know… why I picked that little girl… in the orphanage…?"_

Lights will guide you home,  
and ignite your bones,  
and I will try to fix you.

"_When I saw her… she… she looked me in the eye… she said…"_

_And there she was._

_He could see it with his own eyes and although they were blurred by cataract, he could see it clearly. The little girl was looking up at him with those bright but broken brown eyes with a strong expression in them. She looked just like _his _granddaughter. To him, it felt like he was looking in the eyes of his dead granddaughter and it suddenly dawned on him how much he had missed the sweet little girl._

_She was holding something in her hand. It looked to Gustavo as if it was a little black notebook with frayed pages, but its cover was intact. Although he did spare a glance at the little thing in her hands, his eyes returned to the little girl's face._

_He could hear her voice and it wasn't muffled like the noises of medical jargons people used to make when they check his temperature and the machines beside him. It was loud and clear._

"What are you, little girl?"

"I am strong."

_It came out in its most innocent form. It came from a girl who was left behind, a girl with no one else left in the world to stand up for and with her and still thinks she's strong, and it ignited something in Gustavo._

Lights will guide you home,  
and ignite your bones,  
and I will try to fix you.

_Michael was then looking at the old man and was holding his right hand as he continued looking towards the dark outside. He could just imagine the coldness outside. Little raindrops pelted on the fiber glass of the window as it started to rain, almost muting the slow and steady beep of the monitor on the other side of the bed. The grip on his hand was vice-like and he was surprised when it loosened up a considerable amount the same time the beep became a long, uninterrupted sound._

_His heart dropped._

* * *

Sebastian found himself pulling her closer as her sobs ended as well as her story.

He was, once again, dumbfounded because he thought he knew Santana well, that everything he sees was her and just nothing but that. But he was woefully wrong and he was sorry for it, though he wasn't sure where the little jump of his heart came from.

She was now clutching his arm for dear life, trying so hard to stop the next batch of tears as they attempted to escape from her closed eyelids, but they succeeded again so she gave up trying. Instead, they stayed like that for an hour, not minding the rising sun or the closeness they shared that would have ended up in a fight if it was any other day.

That day, he just held her.

* * *

**AN: **Good day, readers. I am so sorry for this very, VERY late update. I was buried in schoolwork and things, but I hope this one explains something. Next chapter... well, let's just say we're going to have a taste of Amber Amore's evilness.

Please review and let me know again what you think would improve this story. I am reading all of them.


	13. A Drop That Started a Tidal Wave

_Ceramics meeting ceramics, making pleasant clinking sounds. People chatting, or reading newspapers, or just plain enjoying the coffee and the surroundings, much like they were doing._

_Nick was seated across the two lovers, sipping coffee from the custom-printed mug and nonchalantly observing the way people stumble and mumble around them. He had always been observant and that's one of the most helpful, if not irritating, traits he has. It brought him towards many truthful conclusions about his friends, the people around him, and himself. Of course, that talent of his had been regarded as annoying and rather unnecessary, but he deemed it was something that could help if needed._

_He watched as Jeff and Jackie give each other looks of thoughts, before they both gave Nick a glance because they knew him too much to know that his quietness was something of a habit whenever he was thinking deeply about something._

"_Come on, bear," Jackie said, a concerned look on her face. The little nickname made him smile, but it didn't lift his mood further than that. "Speak your incredibly intelligent mind before it explodes."_

_He smiled again at the compliment, but he shook his head and it took both of them a few more convincing to make him spill._

"_It's about Seb," he admitted, not meeting their curious gazes. Instead, his sight found solace on the undisturbed, glassy surface of the brown liquid in his coffee mug._

_These past few days had been rather quick in robbing away Sebastian's inner peace. Amber Amore's mere presence gave him no reason to go out or be happy, and being the good friend that he was, Nick tried asking Sebastian why he was still having bitter feelings. Believe it or not, it only took him a few hours and a few bottles of beer to make him speak._

_When he did, it took Nick about a few—maybe half an hour for the information to sink in. And when it did, he wasn't even sure if it did sound like it. He had a hard time believing it, although he guessed it wasn't all that surprising._

"_He slept with Amber," he said, as quietly as he could because even he couldn't believe it yet. Sebastian was a strong dickhead, a very stubborn asshole and just about every bad adjective in the dictionary, but one thing he wasn't is dumb._

_What Nick did love about Jackie was that she wasn't like any other girl who would react as dramatically as they could at any given news. She just silently squeezed Jeff's hand with a really concerned expression on her beautiful face. She might have mumbled a curse word, but she did it in a whisper-slash-hiss that was beyond audible._

_Now, she was contemplating whether to still call Amber her best friend or cut all communications with her. She's becoming someone no one ever knew anymore and it was shocking Jackie really well._

"_He's not himself," Nick continued, now looking at both of them with utmost seriousness. "He's confused and really… how can I say this… conflicted. He is in a mess right now because as far as I'm concerned, he's having feelings for Santana, but he doesn't know it yet, and here comes Amber making him even more confused than he already is."_

_Jeff was pretty sure this was what they feared. "There's got to be something we can do," he said, and then looked at Jackie who was still holding his hand tightly. _

_Nick bit his lip and decided to take a swig from his coffee before answering. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do unless he wants us to help him. He's stubborn as hell, we all know that. He's gonna put his pride first before anything."_

_He was looking at them, his vision trained on their reactions so he could never miss the look of 'eureka' on Jackie's face. It was as if she had discovered something in her mind, her eyes widening slightly as a smile crept up her face._

"_I know what we can do," she said excitedly. She was literally bouncing on her seat and it earned her an amused expression from the boys. "I'm going to take that vacation Lewis was offering me in Miami. I will take all of you there, Santana included; take them away from the city and from Amber."_

_Jeff tugged at her hand to make her look at him, "How's that supposed to work?"_

_She only gave them a playful smirk before relaying the plan._

* * *

The news came to the public that day. Every broadcasting company aired the news allowed for everyone to know, keeping some of the information private for the family. Mike had been busy all day trying to give—or not—comments and words to different news reporters who had come over with their tirades of inquiries. He had been trying to keep minimal personal information out as possible and just wishes the day to be over quickly so that they can, at least, plan for the wake exclusive only to those concerned.

Oblivious to the public though, Santana and Sebastian had spent the whole day together in her bedroom.

She contemplated more than once if she should pull away from this kind of position, but her mind wasn't winning over what her heart was telling her at that very moment. Her heart was telling her that whatever this was, whatever comfort he was giving her, was what she exactly needed during these times.

The arm around her was giving her a sense of security that she had never felt her whole life. Maybe because she had been technically living on her own decisions with minimal support from her parents or from… from Gustavo, that she had never let anyone protect her from anything. She was doing the protecting herself and she thought she needed no one to do it for her.

But then, Sebastian was making her realize how wrong she had been. There she was in his arms, crying over not just the loss but over everything that she had no control over. She could feel the weight of everything pulling her down.

In a matter of months, she would be in charge and she didn't know if she would be right for it. She knew in herself that she lacks the experience and the professionalism needed in governing something as big as the empire her grandfather had left.

Her chest weighed a ton of bricks at this realization. But all she could focus on were the soft kisses Sebastian was giving her on her forehead and on the top of her hair, giving her shivers all over. The hand rubbing up and down her arm was making her feel warm with a feeling she couldn't fathom.

He was whispering something in her ear that sounded like, "It's going to be fine," but she couldn't really understand because her mind was clouded. All she could feel besides the little shivers was their proximity. It wasn't normal, it was almost intimate, but her mind wasn't fighting to contradict anything anymore.

"Thank you."

It came out seemingly inaudible, but he heard it clearly. A small smile quirked his lips up as he looked down at her, pulling her closer.

"It's nothing," he replied equally quietly.

They were whispering as if those words were for no one else and it was confusing him. Sebastian was wondering how this had happened. All he knew was that he was resisting the urge to check up on her, but against everything, he still found himself in her room, beside her and trying to comfort her even if he sucks at it as she had said.

She shifted nervously inside his grip so he loosened considerably, not knowing if it was making her uncomfortable or not. But her hand around his forearm was keeping him from letting go of her.

"I guess… this makes us _friends_?" she asked, unsure where the out-of-place beating of her heart had come from.

He bit his lip. Friends are fine, right? Because that's what he was there for: to become friends with Santana Lopez and _nothing _more. So, he nodded and voiced out his agreement.

She looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot but her lips were smiling. He could not help but admire how beautiful she looks in the morning, her hair a little unkempt. It made her, for lack of a better word, sexier. His hand found her cheeks, but they traveled north to grasp at her soft, dark locks.

Her lips parted with a little gasp at this sudden touch because she did not expect this at all. She also did not expect the feeling in her stomach that erupted once he grasped at her hair. The shivers escalated and refused to die out and it made her nervous.

His eyes were now surveying her reaction. He was giving her the choice to pull away, to push him away if ever it feels inappropriate to her. But she didn't and it gave him hope.

This was feeling right—no, not right—this was feeling appropriate, like they were meant to do this. But he shouldn't, because they were under the impression and the agreement that they were supposed to be past being enemies and that they were now just friends.

But, he inched closer as her breath pulled him in, not really knowing how to snap out of her spell. She was pulling him in without much of an effort. Just the little space between her lips made him feel the urge to push his tongue against hers.

That urge was being carefully tested as he hovered his lips above hers, giving her another way out. He rarely does this: give people the chance to push him away. He rarely keeps someone this close except for the few friends he has. Usually, he was the one doing the pushing. This time, he was trying to change that.

Her chin lifted up just a fraction of an inch, another signal for him that she feels the same urges and that he's not alone in this. It was taking too slow, but he wanted to make sure she's alright with this.

And for the first time, he wanted to make her feel fine. The hands caressing her hair was now gently pushing her towards him.

And softly, like a sweet evening breeze, his lips met hers. Her hands moved to slide her fingers among his brown locks and pull him closer to deepen the kiss. His tongue ran across her bottom lip, making her moan in sheer pleasure, thus granting access to the warm cavern of her mouth. He deftly pressed their tongues together, making him crave for more of her.

It wasn't like she hadn't had enough kisses in her life to describe this one, but Sebastian Smythe might just be the best one she had ever had—if she did have him. It was the way his lips felt pressed against hers, the way he cupped her cheeks and pulled her in closer, the way it felt like he was making sure he didn't hurt her in anyway; those were the things that made it feel like they were two puzzle pieces connecting with each other in a very intimate way that neither of them had any control over.

But eventually, air became a priority that they had to pull away.

What broke his heart though was the look of guilt on her face. It looked like she was regretting it and it sent unpleasant feelings to the muscles in his fists.

She fervently looked away, avoiding any eye contact with the man she just willingly kissed in _private_ whereas they had agreed that they either had to be friends or had to publicly romanticize, which they both defied by one simple action.

What she was? She was confused.

And he felt it so he decided to leave her there, but not after picking her up and gently laying her on the bed. She clutched tightly on his shirt as he did so, but she did not say anything because words weren't her strength right then. She also did not fight him because she was weaker now than usual.

When she felt the mattress meet her back, she bit her lip to keep herself from looking into those green eyes to not feel that guilt again. His lips against hers were, hands down, the best feeling in the world, but she could not revel into that because she was grieving. So, she curled up into a ball and faced the opposite direction.

He stood there at her bedside, trying to contemplate whether what he did was right and good or wrong and bad. Or it could be good, but wrong.

He wasn't sure if she had immediately gone to sleep or if she just didn't know what she did that she decided not to talk to him anymore—but either way, he had to leave her alone because _he _was making things complicated. If anyone, it should be him who should be blamed if she ever got the urge to blame somebody for the mess that is her mind.

He shouldn't have done that.

But then, as she tried closing her eyes to try and go back to sleep, to dream of the alternate ending, her mind would always race to that memory. It was of pain and pleasure—the pain of the loss, but the pleasure of his… company. And she couldn't really decide which to wallow in.

What are they now?

* * *

Her golden hair glistened under the weak light of the city behind her. She was sat on the executive chair behind the mahogany desk, mindfully eyeing the tall man seated on a chair in front of her. The man, he was wearing a smirk on his ridiculously handsome face as he fumbled with something in his hands. His eyes kept darting from the thing in his hands to her face as if whatever he was doing was associated with her.

She decided to break the silence. "I suppose you know why you're here."

The man lifted his head to meet her gaze, a seductively mischievous glint in his eyes. He ran a hand through his brown curls and laughed lightly. "I don't need to be told twice, mademoiselle."

She smiled confidently at this.

No one would suspect this young man to be one of the most renowned criminal hackers in America because of his impeccable charms and his youthful approach. His suave demeanor would never clue anyone in that he was indeed wanted for several strings of malicious crimes involving database bugging and spying.

He was wanted not only by the police but also by numerous huge companies for stealing information and alteration of confidentiality. And through everything, he remained concealed under dark shadows that Amber Amore would say it was a miracle that they got hold of his sleek persona.

"As much as I want to slap that smirk out of your _lovely_ face, I would say I'd have to postpone that," she said as she took something from under the desk. It was a short brown manila envelope that was sealed tightly with a brown string. She handed it over to him and he took it with that same confident air around him.

"That is everything you could possibly need," she continued, eyeing him again. "Plus some cash and a disposable phone. All you need to do is hack into—

"I told you, _love_," he said, wagging his finger at her. "I don't need to be told twice."

She scoffed and leaned back on her chair. "We're giving you until this weekend. If you don't do it, you know what will happen."

She watched as he shifted uncomfortably on his seat, his eyes showing a glint of fear, but it faded as quickly as it came. That same arrogant aura returned.

"We agreed on half a million," he stated, not even bothering to look away from the beautiful lady in front of him.

She nodded confidently at this.

"Then consider it done, Miss Amore," he said, standing up and shaking hands with her. It was an agreement that he would have to keep if he wanted to still live free and away from the authorities.

She grinned at him, "It's nice doing business with you, Mr. St. James."

"Please," he replied, "call me Jesse."

She felt a little thing slip in between their palms and she realized it was the little contraption he was fumbling with earlier. She could be wrong, but it felt like a key.

Jesse St. James pulled his hand away, but the key did remain on her palm. He turned to leave with a smirk and a wink. She realized that it was a key to the door of that same office made with aluminum from a soft drink can. It was a key to the office that Jesse had never been in before.

She smiled at this.

* * *

**AN: **This is a very, VERY late update and I'm sorry if it's poorly written. I have no excuse other than the burden of schoolwork and just about everything.

Still, let me know if Amber was evil enough. And yeah, surprise, surprise! Jesse St. James on the hook!


	14. The Truth

_When he opens his arms and holds you close tonight,  
it just won't feel right,  
'cause I can love you more than this._

Everything felt familiar. He had been in this kind of arrangement before. People in formal attires were walking past him and saying their condolences to the girl in the simple black dress. She was seated on one of the pews nearest the casket while he was sitting on one behind her. And yes, she was doing a good job in restraining her tears, but he knew that inside her, she was ready to burst with every greeting.

But she wasn't alone, not the least.

Seated beside her was Sam Evans with his arm around her waist. She was leaning her head on his shoulder as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. He was comforting her, the way Sebastian could never do. He didn't know it, but deep inside him, his heart was breaking into little pieces. But he was in too much of a dilemma with Amber fucking Amore to even acknowledge that.

"_You're doing a good job, Santana. Keep doing what you're doing," _she told herself in her mind. The tears weren't falling anymore and the strong façade was fooling the audience. The arm around her waist reminded her of something, but she was quite keen on forgetting it. It had been wrong and it was evident on the awkward little glances they were sharing whenever they meet that particular day.

But most of the thanks should go to Sebastian for having the guts to stay with her even though they were pronounced incompatible. The pain remained even after he left, but it was lighter than the first time as if he took away a big chunk of it with him. Really, she couldn't be thankful enough, but couldn't say it to him as she watched him stand up and walk away and out of the room.

She pressed closer to Sam, desperately trying to find the comfort she once had inside Sebastian's grip.

* * *

It had been months since she had this much fame. Every paparazzo is now on her trail and just about every clothing brand wanted her. She was walking catwalks like they were her own, making people stare in awe. She loves the feeling of being able to appear in front of people and watch them ogle and drop their jaws. She was at the peak of her career, just like a few years ago.

Letting Sebastian go was the most foolish decision she had ever made. Cutting him off meant cutting off the support she was getting from good old Harrison Smythe. Sebastian's old man liked her because she was a darling to him and her boyfriend. She also came from a wealthy family so it was a plus for her. She was getting whatever she wishes because Harrison felt the need to support her—what, with the fame he was also getting. But then, she got bored… as she always does.

They weren't like that the first time they met. The moment she laid eyes on him, she already knew who he was. Of course, the notorious Smythe child wouldn't escape the gossip magazines and tabloids. She had read a lot about him, but they had never met in person until that little high-end party in France which he had been forced to attend.

There went a little flirting and undressing with their eyes which pretty much ended up with her under him for most of the night. They both thought it would just be a one-time thing, but they ended up seeing each other over and over again until it became official to the masses.

Sebastian Smythe is a rare one. A pretty face on a gloriously sculpted body, who wouldn't want to dig into that, right? Amber had been very lucky to land on one as… _resourceful _as him. He could provide her with everything and she was happy with that. And she also knew what the flaw was in their relationship. It was the little knowledge she knew about him; that he thought he was in love with her when all she could see in this relationship is as a stepping stone for her.

At first, she took it as an advantage, making him her little puppet. It was the illusion that he was in love with her that made him vulnerable and easily manipulated. But she eventually got bored with his struggles with his unappeasable dad and his dying grandmother. Besides, she had been cheating on him with Vincent for a month then before his grandmother died.

She only spent just more than a month with Vincent the pothead before dumping him because she got bored with him, too. Now, after a year of living with dying fame, her divorced mother remarried to—guess who? Of course, to the ever popular Samuel Evans, Sr.

What can she say? She loved the fame and the little gifts it gave her and she could not let go of it. Samuel and she are one and the same on this belief; the old man gets her and promised to support her in return for one little thing that she could do for him.

Now, she was back on her feet and as renowned as ever, she promised herself to never let down the person who gave her this current stature.

She grabbed her gold-encased phone and searched for Jesse St. James' contact. When she finally found it, she did not hesitate on pushing the call button.

She placed it near her ear and waited for that silky voice to come in contact with her sense of hearing.

"_Hello?"_

She grinned because the man sounded like he had just been woken up from a seemingly good sleep.

"Good morning, darling," she purred seductively into the phone. "Have you done the _deed _yet?

She heard a scoff from the other end of the line before his response came. _"Do you doubt my functionality, little miss?"_

"As a matter of fact," she said, leaning back on the couch in her room, "I am, handsome. I want the deed done as soon as possible and if I'm unsatisfied… well, we've talked about this and I assume you don't want to be told twice."

"_But if I do satisfy you, mademoiselle?"_

Her tone slipped into a mix of seductive and mischievous as she spoke her next words.

"I might just give you a little surprise along with our deal…"

* * *

He smokes… maybe just a little. He wasn't a smoking person himself, but when things get cloudy, he finds solace in sitting alone outside with a cigarette in between his fingers and smoke fuming from his mouth. It puts him into a little bliss that he could enjoy for at least until the stick lasts.

At that certain time of the day, he was enjoying the warm sun on his skin as the weather presented itself fairly. He looked over to the huge front lawn and noticed how green the grass was. The air wasn't bad either. It scattered the white cloud coming from his mouth into white nothingness. In other words, he was contented with where he was. He just wished things would stay the same; that he'd be allowed to stay there for as long as he could.

The living room of the manor was converted into a little chapel-looking interior to accommodate Gustavo's closest friends and relatives. But no matter how spacious it seemed, it gave Sebastian a claustrophobic sense so he decided to stray away from there to just get away from people and their constant questions.

He was getting emotionally tired of all the questions from other people—but, mostly from himself. He was also asking questions to himself that he has no answer to.

"Why was he jealous of Sam?" for example.

He couldn't find the answer to that, or maybe he was just too stubborn to face the truth. He had always been stubborn so it surprised him that his friends were still there sticking around for him. If it were him, he'd have gone a long time ago. But then again, he was different and hard-headed.

Even with closed eyes, the sunlight was still streaming through. Only when it didn't that he opened his eyes to watch a limousine slide noiselessly in front of him and halt to a stop. He watched as a tall brunette man in a formal uniform walk around the front of the elegant car and open the second door facing the mansion.

He reckoned the man and woman exiting the car were relatives because they closely resemble the Lopez's bloodline. He could not miss the curious glint in the eyes of the middle aged man in the elegantly tailored suit as he, together with the woman with shoulder-length, flowing black hair in salmon pink dress talking with the butler in uniform, walked past Sebastian who was seated on the bench near the pathway.

They held gazes for a little while as the older man entered the double doors of the manor. There was something about that man that made Sebastian curious but he could not point it out. The glint in his eyes was malevolent and he did not know why. He didn't even know him at all.

* * *

She finally let herself up and out of Sam's arms. He asked her if something was wrong but she didn't give him a direct answer. Instead, she traveled to the far end of the room to 'talk' to the other people. She had just been uncomfortable, as if she was trying to find something that Sam couldn't provide.

She stood with a sad little smile on her face as Mrs. Violet Duncan talked to her about her future and the supposed rise of the empire under her management, though Santana knew well enough that those kind words were just empty hopes.

She was beginning to get the hang of talking about the loss when the doors opened to reveal a sight that made her intake a lot of air in her lungs in one sharp gasp.

Maria and Hermano Lopez are known for being one of the most powerful couples in the whole of Latin America. They were the minds behind trading successes and foundation buildings and it made them famous. People knew them as a very strong bonded couple, but their private lives were kept, indeed, _private_.

In this industry, being on every media material would mean an exposed life, but it didn't seem like a problem to the Lopez's. They conceived a daughter, but it wasn't out in the public until the little girl was about seven years old. Little Santana Lopez enjoyed her own private rich life until she was seven and she was seen out with Ulysses, the body guard, in the park with her parents.

The parents didn't think it was much of a surprise anyway since many of the other elitists had already known of the hidden child. They were alright with the media exposure as long as it does not bother the little girl.

But of course, a few people found it as a way to get to the Lopez's.

They didn't know that their sweet little Sannie's life would disappear right in front of them as cold as the day it happened.

It was a chilly day in November that the family decided to take a walk in the park for the last time before the couple goes out of the country again for a year-long business trip. They let the girl wander around in the park carelessly; but of course with Ulysses and Hawkins, the new body guard, keeping an eye on her as the couple sat on the wooden bench far from the sandbox.

She was happily playing by herself, dirtying her little sundress, but neither of her parents cared as long as the girl was happy.

Who would know that Nathaniel Hawkins who had served them for a year then was an infiltrator? They could only watch as the young man in his early thirties grabbed the little girl who thought they were still playing a game and ran to an alley. Ulysses and one other guard from a hotel nearby went in pursuit of the guy, but they were too late as they found the bloodied body of the innocent child in the same alley Hawkins ran into.

It was Gustavo Lopez's idea to hide the assassination from the public and 'replace' the little girl with someone who would look similar.

The bewildered parents were only allowed a little time to grieve before they were scouring the whole country for orphaned children who would look like their little girl.

It wasn't Gustavo's intention, though, to find the then unnamed girl who has the same aura as his granddaughter. She was the exact same age, the exact color of eyes, the shape of the face, the hair—they were all little Santana's and it was almost impeccable.

The little girl was then called 'Annie' by the owner of the orphanage since she, herself, couldn't remember her own name. Gustavo was warned by the kind owner that 'Annie' wasn't that liked even by the other kids. She liked to stand alone and be with herself rather than socialize with the other orphans. But still, against all odds, because of her strange resemblance with his dead granddaughter, the old man chose the anti-social kid with a strong aura.

From then on, 'Annie' was never more. Since then, she was called Santana Lopez for most of her life, playing the role of the _alive _granddaughter of the wealthiest man in New York and playing it well. No one would ever suspect…

But Hermano and Maria Lopez weren't pleased by the idea. Who would want a replacement for their sweet little daughter months after her death? They were bitter at the idea but they could not contradict the older tycoon because he was already on it before they can contest. What could they do other than love the substitute daughter?

* * *

Hermano Lopez walked towards his daughter for an embrace, but as he pulled her into his arms, he spoke to her the words that would break her heart even more.

"_Don't get any idea, child. We're only here for business."_

* * *

**AN: **So, surprise! I just want y'all to know that I love all of you! I hope this doesn't suck because I've disappointed you enough. Please review because I really need to know my errors or your comments about this. I'm willing to take the criticism.

_And for Jackie Stoltz, I imagine her as Julia Voth (search for her)_  
_Teresa Palmer from The Sorcerer's Apprentice for Amber Amore._

'Til next time! Ciao!


	15. Like a Cigarette

Mike stepped in front of Santana with a tight smile, holding her shoulders as she looked away to hide the tears that were threatening to form and spill.

"Look at the bright side, San," he softly stated, trying to make her look at him. "At least you're free from the arranged marriage—you're not gonna pretend anymore!"

She did look at him, though, but with something else in her eyes. Nevertheless, she smiled at this weakly and proceeded to embrace the concerned young man in front of her.

Mike Chang had found her sitting on the floor of one of the more spacious hallways of the manor after having run out of the room. He knew her too well to know that her father upsets her more than anything in this world. Who could blame the old man? He had lost a daughter only to be replaced by an innocent little girl. Santana had to live a life that a dead little girl had left only to be hated by an angry father.

And then, after not seeing Hermano for a long while, he just comes back into her life at a time when she was most vulnerable and prone to breakage.

_She was free._

Yes, she was, and she knew exactly why. All these wealthy investors were protecting their names and none of them would want to deal with an inexperienced girl who could jeopardize the names they were protecting. She knew it should hurt her, but it just made her hate the industry more. Harrison Smythe wasn't different from them, and maybe Sebastian, too. He backed out as soon as the news hit him because he was too scared, especially since he was handling a large company and he could not risk entrusting the shares with a little girl.

She didn't have to marry Sebastian Smythe anymore; it should be a relief, not another bother. But it felt like it.

Hermano and Gustavo didn't get along that well, and that's a fact that they tried so hard to hide from the cameras. It started years ago when Gustavo refused to hand the company to his son and insisted on giving it to their then unborn offspring instead. Hermano was forced to make a name of his own instead of living under an already established empire, but his grudge dissipated almost easily—that was until their daughter was killed and old Gustavo forced the couple to find a substitute girl to replace her.

Santana now was just a reminder of Gustavo's insistent decisions in Hermano's life, that's why he hated the innocent little girl until now.

Santana swallowed the hate, but refused to succumb to it. She made her way through high school away from her adoptive parents and asked very minimal of them. When she graduated, she was forced to move to New York and the rest was just painful history.

Even she wonders how she got through it all when all she wishes is for this to end.

* * *

It didn't take time for the trio to find Sebastian. He was just lounging on a bench on the manor's perfectly mown lawn with an almost finished cigarette stick in between his fingers. He looked like he was sleeping; his eyes were closed and his chin was lifted, he was leaning back and he was letting the sun hit his face.

Nick knew what the cigarette meant and he frowned at it. No matter how peaceful he looked in that position, he could always sense the cloud in his thoughts.

This was the second time Sebastian had sensed a shadow being casted over him and blocking the sunshine. He opened his eyes and was slightly surprised to see Nick, Jeff and Jackie standing before him in their simple but formal attires, with the woman's dark hair up in a bun that let strands fall innocently on her perfect face, the guys were wearing tailored suits with their hair slicked back neatly. Every one of them, especially Nick, was looking at him with utmost concern that it puzzled him.

"We have to talk to you," the woman said, her eyes filling with concern.

_Here we go,_ he thought.

But before he could protest, Jackie and Nick were already on both of the empty spaces beside him while Jeff was standing in front of him with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a stern look on his childish face.

One thing that Nick admired about Jackie was that she wouldn't hesitate on being straightforward. She thinks it would be better if people don't go around a subject and just get straight down to it. But at that time, he didn't know if it helped or made matters worse.

"Why did you sleep with Amber?" she asked, touching Sebastian's arm.

The young Smythe's brows furrowed as he turned his head to look at Nick. "You told _them_?"

Nick pursed his lips and nodded wordlessly.

"Don't blame it on him, Seb," Jackie retorted, making him look back at her. "We're bound to know one way or another anyway. All I'm asking is the reason—we know it's bothering you that—

"—I don't care if anyone's concerned, this is my life," he fumed. But he knew this wasn't what made him angry. It was the reliving of the fact that he _did _sleep with Amber fucking Amore and that it made his life more confusing than it already is. If anything, he was thankful that people are concerned about this, but they were just making it more complicated.

"Seb," Jeff chimed in with a tone that's more scolding than worried. "Let us help, we're your friends."

He looked down. He knew he'd be ungrateful if he says this, but he'd rather sound like that than hurt them more with his internal conflicts and battles. He had hurt enough people, he need not hurt more.

"I don't need any of you."

Jeff looked genuinely hurt, he noticed because he was the first one he looked at. The hurt in his eyes were pricking his heart, but he ignored the feelings surging through his mind right then. He then looked at Nick and Jackie, both with the same pain in their faces which just made the hole in his heart a little bigger.

At that instant, he neither contemplated nor weighed his actions. He just left… just like that. He stood and walked away, left his only friends on that perfectly mown lawn, flicked the cigarette he was holding and stepped on it as it landed on the ground, much like what he was doing with the only people that cared about him.

* * *

Arriving at the funeral of a rival might just be the most fulfilling yet twisted feeling Samuel Evans, Sr. had ever felt. The feeling of triumph as he neared the casket of one Gustavo Lopez made him internally smile even though he had to act like he was devastated by the loss, too.

He looked behind him and spotted the power couple of the last decade, Maria and Hermano Lopez. They were closely seated next to one another, their hands intertwined and their faces turned to each other as they spoke inaudible words too private to hear.

Nevertheless, Samuel walked towards them as he feigned a solemn expression on his face. The couple had noticed him before, when he walked into the room with an air of elegance in his demeanor, and they have heard a lot about him and his charity works. They would be lying if they'd say they have never met this man before—not with the countless events they shared breathing spaces with, but this was the only time they had ever encountered the tycoon himself.

He gave a weak smile, a practiced and theatrical grin that no one would ever suspect as faux. "I am very sorry for the loss."

Hermano looked stoic, but he replied to him. "I am not as sorry as you are."

Samuel Evans, Sr. surely didn't expect that to come from the mouth of the son of his rival, but it indeed boosted his ego to know that he was not alone in how he truly feels.

His wife put her palm on his thigh and gave him a weak smile when he looked at her.

"May I talk to you… in private please," he said to Hermano who still has that catatonic expression on his face. But he did comply, giving his wife an apologetic gaze before going with Samuel.

They walked until they reached the other end of the casket.

"I assume you're here to take care of business?" Samuel asked, giving him one of his trademark smirks. It was then that he felt comfortable showing his true demonic self because he knew that they were sharing mutual feelings about a certain matter.

"Indeed," Hermano replied, taking a glance at the gold-painted coffin and then back at the man in front of him. "A business this old man had left."

Samuel Evans, Sr. is a lot of things, he could be a vicious vixen, a brutal leader, a cold soldier, a loaded gun, a harsh father, and a renowned kind man, but he wasn't oblivious. He could perceive as much information as he could from a person's facial expression. And right now, Hermano Lopez is an open book.

"He was doing well," he stated, looking at the man challengingly.

"I can do **better**," he contradicted, his tone getting stronger. "If he only gave me the chance…"

"But he did give your daughter _your _chance," Samuel replied, his grin growing more evil and more demonic with each passing second.

Hermano scoffed condescendingly at the dead thing inside that damn coffin. "Did you know what he gave me in his will? Almost nothing—as if I'm lowly and undeserving. He wants me nowhere near handling even a fraction of his shares."

"Say…" the other man spoke after letting the silence linger for a few seconds, "I have a proposition if you're willing to hear it."

The man's attention was drawn back to the much older man as he heard the word 'proposition'.

"Go on," he urged as he nodded with discreet interest.

"I am _willing _to take care of your daughter's management," said Samuel, looking directly into the other man's eyes. "I am willing to teach her, to train her how to handle a corporation and I am _willing _to instruct her on how to transfer shares if you agree on one thing: to join corporations."

Yes, this has been running through his mind for a while now. As much as he wanted to take the Lopez Enterprise as a competition, sharing it and making his corporation bigger would guarantee his instant superiority now that the only hindrance to that plan had already died.

He continued, "Besides, did you know that my son and your daughter have been dating for a while now? My Sammy's planning on proposing to her as soon as the news about the Smythe's son's backing out is already out in public. It would be wise, don't you think, for me to 'run' the Enterprise for your little girl and then commence with this little plan that I made?"

He knew he had him. His little sweet talk would only take a minute for it to make him to concur and succumb to his plan, and the rest would just be history.

He was first met with skeptical eyes, ones that scoured the plan to look for loopholes, but weren't able to find any—yet.

"What if I agree to this, Mister Evans?"

He laughed softly, "Then, it's a win-win situation!"

There. He had him there.

* * *

Sebastian Smythe did not know what brought him to the hallway that contained the doors of his and Santana's rooms, but he did find himself absently walking down it. In a few days, he'd be out of here. Soon, he'd leave and maybe never return and it should make him happier—but what the fuck was that nagging feeling inside his head?

They were done—done with the theatrical acts, with pretending and giving the public shows to watch. They would never have to touch each other again, never have to meet each other's eyes and he'd probably miss the banter, the way she spits at him demeaning words and monikers and those eyes—_what the hell?_

He shook his head, stopped on his tracks and groaned. This was definitely getting on his nerves and he was helpless about it.

And yes, his confused mind led him to the front of her room, finding the door ajar once again. It sent him nostalgic feelings, a returning feeling of _mutual _longing that he had felt earlier that day.

Instead of taking a step towards the door, he resorted to leaning against the wall across it and trying to breathe normally. He would just be there as long as he wanted if it weren't for the soft tone that traveled to his ears.

It was her voice, enticing him softly to come in.

"I saw you," she said from somewhere behind the door. It was mild and calm. "You can come in if you want to."

He pushed himself off of the wall and gently pushed the door, only to see her sitting on the edge of her bed in the dimness of the room.

He swallowed.

Even in darkness, he could see the way her waves of hair caress her taut features. He could also sense her eyes boring into his existence, the way they slightly caught light from his direction as the open door was the only source of light to diminish the darkness.

He rattles his brain for something to say, something to fill the air of silence between them because the longer it lingered, the better it got to him.

"I'm leaving," he said and he didn't expect the way her eyes casted downwards as if it emotionally hurt her. She knew exactly what that means and she's fed up with people leaving her and hurting her.

When she didn't respond, he found himself walking over to her and sitting beside her. He put his arms around her waist once again to hold her, but not tightly, just enough to give her room if she didn't want him to.

And she lets him again without protest.

This was what confused him. One day, they were clearly detesting each other, and the next they were trying to comfort each other. It would be this game that would kill him if it continued—so maybe he's a little grateful that he'd be leaving, that he'd be escaping this hell game because he could not live his whole life with this vicious girl and spend hours under her fickle mind games.

_Maybe he did want to…_

So he stayed there as long as he was allowed. They didn't say anything, not acknowledging the fact that in a matter of days, they'd no longer be a staged couple, and that it should bring them mutual happiness, but it certainly isn't. They ignored everything and just stayed together until… until they could no longer.

* * *

Sam Evans was left on one of the pews nearer to the casket as Santana left his side to meet her father and immediately ran off because of an unknown reason; it looked like they had a heated conversation that resulted to that. But Sam could just guess.

Yes, of course, his father had to arrive at his rival's funeral to show how noble it is of him to accept that the rivalry between them had ended with one standing and one dead.

He watched as his father lured Hermano Lopez into a corner to talk about something. He could care less as to what they were talking about, but as Samuel Sr. glanced his way, he knew it had to be somewhat connected to him or just remotely about him.

He wasn't wrong because when the adults were done, his own father walked up to him with a beam of a thousand watts, saying the words that turned his stomach upside down.

"Congratulations, son," he said, patting his shoulders firmly, "you're marrying Santana Lopez!"

* * *

**AN: **Hi guys! I have nothing to say other than a deep thank you from the bottom of my heart to those who have read and reviewed. Please read and review again, let me know what I did wrong and what you don't like!

Reviews=cookies!


	16. The Enemy that Saved Her

How dark will it need to get to make a man turn around to see the light?

When you're in a dark alley in between two high-rise buildings, covered with bruises on every part of your body and without a care in the world, it's hard to think about the decisions you've made that put you in that place.

Sebastian Smythe had just been kicked out of some bar in some street because he had started a fist fight with one burly bouncer who's a lot bigger in physique than he was. So, he found himself flung out of the said bar with a few glass fragments embedded on both of his arms as a result of landing on them.

He didn't even care that the dark alley was downright malodorous and filthy. He just lay there, his back resting on the grimy wall as his head kept spinning because of too much alcohol intake. He took his phone out and pushed the center button only to have it illuminate his face and show how many messages his friends could type up in just a few hours. With three digits nearing its next hundreds, his friends are absolutely exceptional.

He dropped his hand on the pavement with a scoff and took a swig from the beer bottle in his hand. Once finding its emptiness, he did not hesitate to throw it and smash it on the wall of the next building.

Watching as the bottle explode and multiply into tiny little pieces, he lifted the hand that has its fingers curled around the phone to dial one of his friends' numbers.

"Hello?" asked Nick Duval as he got up from his couch. Sebastian didn't put the phone on his ear, it would just make the painful throbbing in his head hurt even more. He just put it on speaker phone and set it on the ground, letting the blare of sirens from ambulances on the street plague the line.

Nick had been trying to contact this asshole for the past few hours because he had just disappeared after the burial earlier that day. He also urged Jeff and Jackie to do the same, to maybe pull Sebastian back to his senses—because wherever he was, they all knew that it's a destructive place.

After a few hours of trying and failing, they finally got an answer by means of a phone call by a very drunk man who was stuck in a menacing alley with no ability to get up without hitting something.

"Heeeey, Nickyyyyyy!" he slurred, a blissfully drunken tone in his voice. It wouldn't require a brain surgeon to tell that this man would need assistance even in getting up. Nick could only palm his face.

"Sebastian Charles Smythe," he scolded, hating the tone of sternness in his voice. He was used to being calm and mellow, but this particular person could really bring him to his dark side. "Where the _fuck_ are you right now?"

Sebastian scoffed in his drunken stupor. Nick _rarely _curses and if anything, this moment should be recorded.

"Hey, Niiiiiickyyyyy," he dragged on, laughing at himself for being so stupid. "Did you know hoooow I got here?"

He shook his head and sighed, "No, Sebastian. Please tell me—

"Yeah, yeah, yada yada!" he interrupted, laughing again. "Nickyyyy… I want to say I am sooooo sorry… for being such an _ass _to you and to… Jeff and… Jackie… 'cause I was sooooo wrong… will you everrrrrr forgive me… Nickyyy? Or… I could just… sleep here…"

No, this wasn't good. It sounded like Sebastian was about to fall asleep—Nick needed to know where he was, he needed Sebastian to tell him so that he could pick him up because wherever he was would not be a good place to blackout.

And yes, the apology was crystal clear and Nick knew him too well to know that anything coming from his mouth when he's drunk is pure and honest, but he needed to know where he was!

"Sebastian! Wake up, you dumbass! I need to know where you are!" he yelled at the phone, his voice raising an octave higher.

He snapped into consciousness, but just barely.

"I'm… at…" he laughed subconsciously, thinking that this was really ridiculous that he was making his friend pick him up because he was too drunk to even stop himself from laughing, "… downtown… in an alley between… 11th Cornerstone and Props. Nickyyyy… are you going to pick me up—

"Yeah, don't go anywhere, you asshole," he reprimanded, grabbing his coat from the rack and dashing out of his condominium in a hurry. He texted Jeff to meet him at the nearest junction with his car as soon as possible—and that soon was sooner than Nick had expected. In less than half an hour of trying to find Sebastian, they finally found 'Props', which was actually a bar.

They stood in front of the disgruntled Sebastian, both of them sighing in relief and in disbelief. The young man looked up at them with an apologetic smile before he was picked up by his two best friends and was led to the car parked near the opening of the alley.

It was a tiring trip, but they all made it alive and into the comforts of the vehicle, with Sebastian half-asleep on the backseat and Nick on the passenger's seat next to Jeff.

They were driving down the highway when Sebastian started mumbling. Or singing.

_And they say, she's in the class A team,  
stuck in her daydream,  
been this way since eighteen, but lately,  
her face seems,  
slowly sinking, wasting,  
crumbling like pastries._

_And they scream, the worst things in life come free to us._

Because every now and then, when he gives his heart the chance to scream, all he would hear was her name. Every now and then, when he gives his mind the chance to see what it wants to see, all he would imagine was her face. She was plaguing him and it felt like he had no choice but to succumb to it, though he didn't see any reason why she shouldn't. She made it clear on the very moment they first met that she'd destroy him.

And the part where he pushed the only people concerned about him away? That was on impulse. He should never have done that. But he couldn't bring himself to apologizing—or had he done that already? Well, fuck it, he's drunk. He does things when he's drunk, things he would never have had the guts to do if he were sober.

* * *

The blonde young man stared as two burly guards flung an unknown man out of the bar. He turned to the bar with a sigh before downing his burning alcoholic drink in one swig. He didn't even flinch as it burned his throat slightly—he had been downing the same drink for a few minutes now and it felt natural.

The heavy beat of the music of the bar was beginning to drown and become unrecognizable, thanks to the buzz taking over his senses.

He did not go there for entertainment, he went there because this whole 'thing' with his dad and the Lopez's had become too much to handle. He did not realize until then that his whole life had been about what his dad wants—not so much of his.

All this time, he had been trying to be the good boy by being obedient, but unknowingly, he was just being manipulated by a cold devil. He could feel the hatred burning in his chest as he downed his 12th—13th—whatever—drink. He couldn't care less about the deafening noises of the party people around him.

But he surely did not miss that fine woman walking up to him—a goddess in her own way, the way her golden blonde hair caressed her defined cheek bones and the way that mischievous smile made her sexier than she already is with that figure-hugging, violet dress. It made him smile.

"Did you come here alone?" she asked in that silky tone, her words dragging on in his mind. She didn't even need to compete with the volume of the loud music, her voice just melted into his mind.

"And not planning on going out alone," he replied, smirking at her.

The goddess laughed her angelic laugh, "I like you. What's your name?"

"Sam Evans," he replied, taking her hand and grazing his lips on the back of it before asking, "What's yours?"

"Quinn Fabray," she replied.

And somehow, he knew he'd be seeing this woman for a long time after this night.

* * *

The sun was hitting his skin in a pleasant way, just like the breeze grazing his exposed torso, as he laid on one of the lounge chairs docked on the deck of the yacht. He raised one of his arms to look at the still fresh cuts made by the glass shards that penetrated his skin just a few days before.

He sighed.

In the past few days, he had been feeling unwell, but his friends had done a good job in keeping him from going to bars by keeping him occupied. They went out of their ways to make sure he's staying in his new condominium unit with no beer bottle in hand. In whole honesty though, he felt like he was in prison.

After packing with Jackie's help, he was ready to move away and on, ready to leave the manor and never return. He swore to himself that he will never see the fiery Latina again, no matter what the circumstance is. But then, later on, he would find out that the 'circumstances' might not be as considerate as he wanted it to be.

But unknown to him, Santana and his own friends started hanging out. It began when Jackie helped Sebastian with packing that they stumbled upon each other at the kitchen while Santana was making herself something to eat. They talked and they clicked—simple as that.

But of course, it would be absurd to say that she only befriended Santana so that she could commence with her plan (although that was the sole purpose of it), she was really amazed to get acquainted with the renowned 'bitch' of the high-end. She didn't expect her to be such a sweetheart because every time Sebastian opens his mouth to describe her, his words would only contain such obscenities.

When Jackie was on tour, Sebastian could not stop talking about how horrid life was with Santana Lopez, but now, he could not even bring himself to hear her name.

So Jackie was doing the best she could do to help Sebastian.

But why, right? There has got to be a reason why Jackie was so into this.

That's because contrary to popular belief, Sebastian Smythe isn't a full-on stuck-up douchebag as what people had stereotyped him to be.

There was a time back in college when she was about to finish her course in Political Science that she was tapped by one of her friends' acquaintance to model for a brand of clothing—that was her first actual job. Needless to say, she loved it and was tapped for some more appearance.

At first, her daddy, Martin Stoltz, the CEO of Las Vegas' largest distributor of gaming machines, thought it was just a hobby of hers—that it would be nothing but a little interest. Later on though, it grew into a passion and he strongly disagreed with Jackie dropping her education to consider modeling.

Sebastian had been a family friend ever since, and a good friend to Jackie. When he found out about her problem with her dad… that was a time she would never forget and never let go.

It was Sebastian who talked to the stubborn CEO to convince him about his daughter's passion. It helped that the young Smythe was a smooth talker because after just an hour of talking, he had persuaded the old man to let Jackie on her own. To how he did it, it was still a mystery, but if it weren't for him, Jackie would still be stuck studying politics and eating paper in frustration.

So, she actually owed the asshole that.

So she invited Santana on an island tripping to Miami without telling her that the bad boy would go with them, too. The wait on their reactions when they find out was kind of thrilling, but when the actual moment came, it was anti-climactic. They didn't even meet each other's eyes.

This was a way of getting back for that good deed, but so far not so good. They have been avoiding each other on the yacht on their way to the remote island in the middle of the vast waters.

Lewis, Jackie's manager, had offered this trip as a congratulatory gift for having walked her first five hundred catwalks. Yeah, the bizarre man had gone out of his way to congratulate her on that little thing, but she was thankful nonetheless.

When Santana walked out of the luxury cabin unannounced and clad in nothing but a small two-piece bikini covered only by a thin, translucent silk robe, the young Smythe could only pretend that he was asleep. The yacht was built large enough for five people to be out of each other's five-meter radius, but here she was in front of him and so he had to be discreet or else it would be awkward as hell. The sunglasses on his eyes had helped in maintaining the act, but he could not help checking out that fine body.

Sure, he always knew in himself that a gorgeous woman like that will always be worthy of a look even if she's a… is he still in the right position to call him 'bitch'?

She seemed oblivious to the fact that a young man was pretending to be asleep on one of the lounge chairs under the shade of the extended roof of the cabin of the yacht. Instead, she perched herself on the metal railing of the nose and looked far ahead across the water… lost deep in thought.

She accepted this vacation with her newfound friend just because she thought she needed a break from everything—she didn't expect to find herself near the Smythe again. They both took an oath (even if it's not verbally) that they would never have to see each other again. Nevertheless, it's too late to back out when she found out. All she had to do is avoid him for two days—two fucking days! She wanted to be angry at him for no particular reason, but she could not bring herself to it because she's just… overwhelmed by his presence.

_Fuck._

Sebastian was also _deep _in thought… the thought of how endless those legs seemed when they're exposed, of how divinely sculpted that figure is, how that olive skin would always hold some sort of power over any gender, how that dark and glorious mane would always complement her complexion, and how it seemed like other women should screw it because Santana Lopez would always win.

"_God…"_

Her turning around and searching for the source of the sound clued Sebastian in that that thought was not kept in his mind after all. He cursed internally, but when she found him, he put on his best smirk and turned on his cocky attitude.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, pulling at the opening of her robe and closing it—as if it could make any difference.

He cocked an eyebrow and sat up straight, "I don't know—I was innocently taking a break here when all of a sudden, you walked in. Could you be any ruder?"

"Excuse me," she retorted, taking a step towards him with a snap of her fingers. "No one told me you _own _this part of the yacht. This is America, _a free country_. You should really learn your US History."

He scoffed, "Why don't I let you learn about _marine biology_ instead?"

They both knew what he meant by that.

Santana… she should be angry at him, furious even, but she felt relieved, although she did not show it on her face. This kind of interaction between them had died a long time ago and having this again… it was a feeling she had missed.

When she could not hold it in any longer, she bit her lip, turned her head away and smiled, even if it was only to herself. If Sebastian saw (and he did see), she couldn't really care less. She hadn't smiled that wide since… well, since forever.

He felt his heart jump in his chest as that coy smile, that lip-bite, she—_come on, Sebastian, man up!_

But really, that hostility that she met him with just a few moments ago had melted like ice on fire as she turned away to smile. If she could smile like that more often, he would love her more.

_What? No._

He scoffed just because that thought had caught him off-guard like her smile. Love her? That's pretty impossible.

"What?" Santana asked, that grin was still lingering but was then fading slowly.

Looking directly into those eyes made him warm inside, like something was pulled and his gears started working. He could not describe that feeling with as much articulation as he wanted—just because he needed answers—because he couldn't even explain this to himself.

Just a few days ago, he was ready to let this feeling go, to be able to live on his own without any distractions such as Santana Lopez, but there he was again, within her radius and getting sucked into a dark black hole that's unknown to him.

He shook his head and stood, put his hands in the pocket of his rolled up jeans and walked away. He walked away because he knew that if he stayed longer, he'd do or say something way out of line that would make their relationship more awkward than it already was.

He would never admit to this, but on the latter part of that day, that smile from the Latina girl would plague his mind fervently until all he could do was pull on his hair in frustration.

* * *

The island was gorgeous.

When they stepped foot on its white sand, they saw nothing but beauty and green. Wherever they looked would just show them a stretch of green land lined with almost golden-white sand that borders the crashing sea.

Looking far ahead would result to seeing a rocky area of the island with what looked like a deep, dark cave surrounded by low shrubs and high trees. It was pretty much hidden, but it didn't escape Santana's vision. It wasn't far from the place they were going to stay in, but it would probably take a lot of navigating and a handful of sense of direction to reach it.

For a moment, she forgot about Sebastian and was just amused by how heavenly this place seemed. She was about to let her mind wander to what she was going to do here when a slender arm wrapped around her own.

A cheery female voice rang in her ears, "Do you like it, San?"

She turned her head to Jackie's direction with a big smile on her face, "It's beautiful!"

The pretty girl giggled in euphoria as she dragged Santana in an almost brutal manner towards the huge villa in front of them. They let three middle-aged men grab their belongings as they, themselves, looked around whilst walking towards the elegant spread.

Somehow though, in the middle of the day, she found herself sharing a room with Jackie while the boys had a room to themselves. When they were done placing things in their spacious room, Jackie made her way to sit on the edge of Santana's bed with a thoughtful look on her face.

She was careful in wording out her question, but it took them to the point.

"So… are you okay now… with everything?"

Santana, while reaching up to grab a salmon-pink shoal from the dresser, turned to her with a sly smile on her full lips. "I am, thank you."

It could just be Jackie Stoltz, the model, the gorgeous young woman; the face of every catwalk; but then again, it could also be Jackie Stoltz, the friend.

Yes, it could be stated that she and Jackie had only known each other for a few days then, but she was the closest Santana had to a girl friend. Besides, the pretty woman's presence would give anyone a good vibe about her. Her cheeky smile would clue anyone in on how friendly she is. It's no wonder why Jeff had fallen for this girl.

Jackie smiled as she was joined by Santana on the single bed.

She could not miss the glint of curiosity in the Latina's eyes as she scoured her expression. It was as if she had something to tell or ask that she couldn't quite find a way to articulate.

When she finally found her voice, she asked a question that caught Jackie way off-guard.

"How's Sebastian like being a friend?"

And as if to defend herself, she added,

"Because I see you going out of your way to try and help him—and it's sweet and all, but there has got to be a reason…"

Jackie met her with a small smile before looking down on the intricate patterns sewn on the mattress.

"He's not all that bad, if you're close enough to examine him," she said, tracing the pattern with her fingers while Santana watched as she spoke. "He's a very private person. He does not let people in just because he's afraid he might hurt them… in all belief that he's a bad person. I personally believe the contrary. A person has to be as hard-headed as him to be able to break a few of those walls that he built around him.

"Or you know, someone has to compete with him," she then said as she looked into Santana's eyes. "If someone's every bit as stubborn and hot-headed as he is, he just might open up.

"He's done a lot of things for all of us before," she continued, widening her grin a little at Santana. "I say I know him quite well—maybe a little too well for his liking—but I'd say he's more than that. He cares for people in his own strange way. Which is every bit as refreshing as it is annoying."

She cocked an eyebrow at the Latina and let out a chuckle—a laughter they both shared.

After that conversation, they never went near that subject again, nor did Jackie ask Santana the reason to why she asked that. Instead, they talked about girl things—the bikinis they were to wear, the beach, and just about everything else. But then, they both realized a few facts about each other that they have in common:

_They both care for an asshole named Sebastian Smythe, only for Jackie, it's platonically. For Santana… well, that's yet to be discovered._

* * *

She didn't care about the noisy boys down by the shore, she didn't care if they're beckoning for her to join them in the waters because she was comfortable lounging under the shade of one brooding palm tree a good ten feet away from the sea.

Clad in nothing but a simple, black two-piece bikini, she lie on one of the lounge chairs with sunglasses on her eyes. She let the subtle heat of the warm sun devour her exposed skin as the hot breeze blew her way.

Apparently, Jeff was drowning Nick on a shallow part of the sea near the shore by sitting on his head because the dark-haired boy had stolen a hair product from him as a prank while Jackie sat on the sand, laughing at them. Sebastian, on the other hand, was nonchalantly chucking masses of sand on the two in the water. It was almost comical.

They are the epitome of a modern day, dysfunctional but happy family—and up to that moment, she was still wondering how they came to be. She was too distracted by the game that she hadn't noticed Sebastian walking up to her.

Or maybe she did, but only discreetly.

That man has got to be doing something to himself because that body looks like it could be hit with steel and not get a scratch on it—but she knew that that was an exaggeration because she caught a glimpse of the fading bruise from that broken rib just a few months ago. It was doing well, but it was still evident.

She looked away because her stare was lingering and it was never a good sign. She pretended to not see him and only notice him when a shadow was casted over her figure.

Her figure.

Sebastian was blaming his nonsensical mind in leading him to where the vixen was. He didn't even know why—he just went for it! And damn, that figure.

He could always say he meant to insult her, that that was the reason he had gotten up and walked towards her spot when there, in fact, were a few more spots away from her under the shade if he were to shield from the sun.

"You went all the way here to just _snooze_?" his voice came, smooth and cool unlike the weather. "What a bummer."

She lifted the glasses and rested them on top of her head with a smirk on her face. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Twink. And besides, what are you doing here? If you're bored, you should just go home. It would make _my _vacation worth it."

They were at it again like the past few days had not been about sulking, like they had not spent a day with each other. They could go a day without the hurtful words and the insults—hell, they were able to do it for a few days—but still, they chose to go with it. Why? Because the insults somehow mask the truth behind the meaningful gazes and the thoughts—she won't even go there.

"You know what would make _my _vacation worth it?" he asked, cocking his head to the right. He didn't even wait for her to answer. "It's a story to tell: a story about a young woman who was found dead on the shores of Miami. I'd tell the police I found you and it would be a story worth telling for the next few years—

"That is if they don't catch you. You're such a psycho, I should have known."

They were locked in their stares, fiery ones with daggers.

They were both sharp-edged knives and any contact between them would cause sparking friction.

She was about to snap at him about something when they heard a sharp yelp from the trio down by the shores. His head turned sharply at the sound, but it turned out to only be because the boys had changed position with Nick sitting on Jeff's head as he tried to drown him. Jackie was doubling over in laughter, but Sebastian was already making his way towards the crowd of three.

The Latina watched as he broke the fight by uttering a few words. Jeff came floating to the top, emerging with a dreaded look on his face while Nick fought the urge to laugh at the mess that he was. In a split second, they shared a look and then pulled poor Sebastian down under the water.

He wasn't even emerging but they were already running away. Too late though, because the man had resurfaced with a handful of rocks in his hands. He threw it at them with vigor that Jeff even caught one with the back of his head, catching him way off-guard and making him trip on the sand over nothing.

Nick did not even try hiding his laughter while Jackie's escalated. But as hard as he tried, Santana still saw the subtle chuckle that escaped Sebastian that he thought he had concealed with the noise that his friends were making.

The whole of the day went past them in a blur and before they knew it, it was three hours past noon.

During those times, the boys had finally encouraged Santana to take a dip in the water while Sebastian sauntered over where the Latina had left, refusing to share the same water. Everyone was fine with that, but they all thought he was a kill-joy.

The boys had worn themselves out and Jeff was badly sun burnt, thanks to forgetting putting sun block. He was pink all over and Nick and Sebastian weren't too kind with their jokes. They spent the next hours picking on Jeff while Jackie applied an ointment on his skin that made him look like he had spent a whole day inside a tanning machine. If anything, that ointment just put the demeaning jokes to a new extreme that Jeff would _surely _enjoy.

Well, Santana couldn't shake the fact that her bones ached to wander into the forest and just take a look into that cave. It seemed inviting and she knew she should have done it in the morning, but she couldn't resist.

So, telling Jackie that she's off for a walk, she started into the greenery. The walk wasn't treacherous, only a few scratches every now and then from stray branches and vines, but she wasn't one to cry over a few boo boos.

The forest was absolutely mystical. The subtle light that escapes the leaves and branches of the trees towering over her made the forest floor an interesting canvas of light and shadows.

Besides, walking allowed her mind to wander to thoughts—that what if she did her own thing and just let her father handle the company? What would that mean to her and to the people who have believed in her? And Sam… a few days ago, after an afternoon of amazing sex with her amazing boyfriend, she accidentally wandered through his cabinet and found an engagement ring buried under the pile of socks.

She didn't tell anyone yet, but she thinks he was determined and serious. All the while, her indecisiveness and insecurities were eating her up.

Ever since then, she looked for signs. Whenever Sam reaches into his pockets, she would excuse herself to the bathroom. Whenever he calls for a waiter in a restaurant for champagne, she would tell him that she's not in the mood for alcohol or some shitty excuse. She didn't know why, but she's not yet ready.

Later on, she found the rocky crevice of the cave hidden behind the undergrowth and the thick vines. Unbeknownst to her, the sky had darkened and the wind blew its cold harshly throughout the island. It was only when she was inside the cave that she saw the blinding flash of lightning followed by the sharp boom of thunder.

Then it poured.

"Shit."

* * *

"It's already six in the evening!" the woman huffed, looking at the window near her.

They were all sat on the couches surrounding a fine center table in the living room of the villa. The skies had poured shortly after they let Santana wander into the woods and everyone is worried.

The winds were brutal, and so were the lightning and thunder and every strike of those sank everyone's heart, especially, but secretly, Sebastian's.

He was sat across Nick who was frowning in thought.

They already went through different suggestions, all of which Sebastian had no contribution of, like calling for coast guard or finding the girl themselves. But then of course, they couldn't risk anything happening to another one of them.

The seventy-year old caretaker of the villa had volunteered himself, but they all thought he was too old and anything might happen to him, too.

"If we let her there…" Nick breathed with a sigh, not even bothering to finish his sentence because Sebastian had already thrown him a sharp look.

A flash of lightning and a boom of thunder later, they found Sebastian walking out of the living room. It was too late when they found out that he was going for the door, grabbing a couple of raincoats and a trench coat.

Jackie called out for him to come back, but he had already disappeared into the blinding rain.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled desperately at the ends of the dark raincoat that he shielded his body with.

He cursed the rain, the wind, the lightning that secretly freaks him out ever since he was a kid, the thunder that deafens him every ten seconds or so, and of course, Santana, for wandering around and making him realize that he actually freaking care about her sorry ass enough that he'd risk his life in the rain just to… save her.

"Santana!" he called out in competition with the noise of the thunder and the rain. But he didn't care—he just yelled for her. If ever she hears, it would at least give her hope that someone's looking for her.

"Santana, where the hell are you?"

* * *

_Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it. Fuck._

Curled up into a ball and leaning against the cold wall of the cave, Santana shivered as the lightning dominated the sky and the thunder dominated her ears. She could not go home in this downpour, she'd just get lost. And fuck, she was scared.

Her muscles were twitching as the cold seeped into them, and into her heart. It's too dark and too wet outside, she could slip and hit her head or something if she tries going back so she let herself rest inside the surprisingly dry cave. She waited.

And waited.

She waited for the sky to let up, for the rain to end, but neither was going to happen and she was losing every bit of hope that she scarcely had in the first place. Her teeth were now chattering and she could not help feeling a bit dizzy—

"_Santana! Santana, where the hell are you?"_

Her senses had snapped awake when she heard the voice from far away calling her name. It could just be her imagination or just the wind, but it started her heart once again. A slight warmth spread through her body as she tried pushing herself off of the wall. The voice sounded dreadfully familiar… and alone.

She willed herself to shout a response, but her heart pounded so hard on her chest that she felt like she was going to faint so she sank to the ground once more and wrapped her arms around her torso, her short shorts and the breezy top weren't doing much for her at that moment. She was desperate for heat she thinks she might die of desperation.

She might die.

It echoed in her mind. She might die. If this was the end, then she'd be alright with it. Dying is easier than living, but then no one could testify for that yet.

She willed herself to stay awake, but her senses were weary and her mind was hazy. She could sleep… right? Because sleep is good. Everybody needs rest. _She _needs rest. Rest is good.

Her eyes were slowly shutting and she could be alright with… everything.

But right when she was about to doze off, a voice brought her back to reality.

She opened her eyes as slowly as she was about to close it, lifting her chin up to see a set of sea-green eyes looking right back at her with worry. Who is this guy? He looked familiar.

She felt careful hands on her arms, shaking her lightly as that same voice that called out to her just a few moments ago rang in her ears once again, this time a bit closer than before.

"Santana, don't—don't sleep! Fuck—wake up, come on! Please! Damn it, don't you fucking dare close your damn eyes!"

He quickly peeled the coat from his body and put it over hers, wrapping it around her small and fragile frame as he enveloped her with his tight but gentle embrace.

Desperate.

That's what he was. He's desperate because when he found her, she was drenched to the bone and was about to fall into slumber—and she just couldn't. She could get complications because of the cold, and damn it, she just needed to be awake. He needed to make sure she's not dead or anything.

He was rocking her back and forth on the ground, rubbing her arms with his palms to generate heat, to make sure she's still breathing, still alive. He was slowly losing hope and this was not good.

It was that whisper that made him smile despite the situation; the whisper of his name.

"_Sebastian…"_

"Santana," he whispered back, his face so close to hers, so close to her half-lidded eyes, to her parted lips. "Please wake up. Don't… don't leave me."

He felt hot tears stinging his eyes, willing for them to go back in and hide themselves. He need not cry now, he just needed to see her well.

The heat she needed was right in front of her. It was Sebastian Smythe, the man with the same fire as her. He was what she needed the most—his heat, his touch, his skin. She _desperately _needed him because her muscles would not stop shaking and his embrace was the closest thing to a comfort.

His lips were right there… right in front of her.

So she inched closer, her hand traveling to the back of his head to pull him in nearer. She could tell, even in her vulnerable state, that he was testing the waters.

But when their lips met, both threw caution to the harsh winds. His hands found her cheeks, absent-mindedly stroking them with his thumb and pulling her even closer—as if that's even possible. This need, it could not be described with words and both were thankful that an action such as this was existent or they could never voice out whatever it was that they both were feeling.

His tongue rolled effortlessly into her mouth, sweeping through every crevice and every part—desperate to taste her. Her own tongue battled for dominance, but Sebastian clearly won.

Her arms wound around his neck to pull him back down. Feeling the stone floor hit her back, she felt a whimper come out of her system as he latched his mouth on the curve of her jaw, sucking lightly on her pulse point.

This was it, the heat that she so wanted to feel and she could stop right then—but she couldn't. He's too addictive, too _good _and he was what she needed and… fuck.

Right then, her brain had stopped working and she just gave into her instincts, knowing very well that with her commitment now with Sam, she was undoubtedly cheating on him with her enemy… the enemy that saved her.

The enemy with good hands… the hands that were skimming down her exposed torso. He was now kissing down her abdomen, leaving a trail of heat on her skin. She shuddered as he kissed the skin just above the brim of her shorts. Her fingers wound through his drenched hair, earning her a soft moan of pleasure from the man.

He slowly slid her off the garment and tossed it aside, kissing on the insides of her thighs. Her hands pulled him higher until her lips were on his again in a searing kiss. Her body arched accordingly as he slid his tongue into her mouth again.

He pulled away and she gave a little sound of disappointment, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She held her gaze at him, her fingers still threaded through his brown locks. His eyes held meaning to them, like he was contemplating whether to continue or not.

"Are you sure?" he breathed, his breath fanning over her face. It was enough to send her over the edge. She pulled him back in another heated kiss, this time it was her dominance overpowering him.

His hands couldn't stay in one place. It roamed until it reached her ass, grabbing at it gently as he deepened the kiss. Her determination—this sudden power—was overwhelming and a turn on at the same time. He has never been this hard his entire life. Maybe part of it was because he had been _wanting _her for so long it's not even funny.

And nothing mattered anymore. Not that they were in a really bad situation, not that they were in the middle of nowhere where salvation would probably come after the rain. He just cared about her and her needs.

So, he pulled away once again with the same question although his words were a little more breathless before.

She answered him with another question of her own. "Why are you here?"

His green eyes searched her face for some kind of approval or something—a reason behind that question. He wasn't sure if honesty would be better, but he knew that he was there because he cared for her and wanted her alive. He hesitated, but he answered nevertheless.

"I want to make sure you're alive."

Her lips quirked a little into a small smile before pulling him down again for a gentle kiss.

His left hand thoughtlessly untied the lace of her bikini bottom and pulled it off her, but without leaving her lips. Her own hands were lightly scratching at his drenched grey tank top, lifting it up and discarding it off of him so that she could claw at his bare back as he devoured her neck with biting and sucking.

He was painfully turned on, but he wanted her to be sure of this, he wanted her to make the move so that he would not feel like he was pushing her on this. And as if reading his mind, her hands went to the thin fabric of his denim shorts, pulling it down to release him.

He looked into her eyes as he angled himself to her entrance, giving her a chance to back out. But that little nod stated otherwise and so slowly… gingerly, like a fragile ceramic, he entered her.

He watched as her eyes got wider at the feeling of him inside her, her heart beat faster than normal and her breath short and ragged. They stayed silent for a few seconds, letting her adjust to him before he rocked her into a steady rhythm, getting deeper into her.

That moan—that grip on his shoulders—her breath mingling with his—this was perfection in its raw form in its most unlikely place. The most wrong of times and places, she was cheating on someone and he's probably not in the right mind, but who the hell cares?

He was on the verge, ready to release when their voices were what only rang through the hollow cave, when he felt her convulse around him. That was when he let it go.

He carefully brushed their lips together as he shut his eyes. She looked beautiful even post-climax and he wanted to picture this for a long time in his mind because after this… she would go back to Sam Evans and he'd be dreading his loneliness.

She is going to regret this and he could do nothing about it so he might as well savor the moment as long as it lasts.

The rain had finally calmed, just like their hearts as they continued their kiss without a care in the world.

* * *

The breach had been easier than he thought it would be since this was a well-known company and that the mainframe contains the most confidential files. All it took was a little hack into the CCTV system and a block to the sound receivers from every hall that he's going to take as a route to the hidden room.

They might think they're clever to not put the hidden room on the blueprint, but they weren't clever enough to discard the lone entrance on one of the halls, the very one which leads to a door but to no existent room. It wouldn't take a very high-minded individual to figure out that that had been a careless mistake.

What he didn't expect though were the guards taking rounds with an interval of a minute each round. The guards weren't ordinary ones, they were specifically trained to be observant—and no, that's not mockery. Luckily, he was a keen observer, too, and had figured out that every after two rounds, they change routes which gives him an out time of about three minutes to run around the halls without being noticed.

But that wasn't the problem at all.

The real problem was the hacking into the mainframe. True, the placing of the hidden room had been careless, but the firewalls and the tough interior of the software used to prevent bugs. Only a strong but resilient virus could go in and make it seem like the virtual wall was unscathed when, in fact, it was being breached.

And Jesse St. James has the right virus.

And so, as he plugged his sensitive flash drive in, he was able to break down the components of the wall and his virus was able to penetrate and collect the right information.

So it's true, the Lopez daughter isn't really a Lopez daughter.

It wasn't long until he was dialing Amber Amore from the Lopez Enterprise building with a cheerful greeting.

"I got it."

* * *

**AN: **So this has been a looooong chapter and I am very sorry for the wait. I hope this doesn't disappoint all of you. And I do have a challenge to my readers! Let's see if we can hit those reviews up to a hundred. Anyways, days will be hectic from tomorrow on so please, I am sorry in advance.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!


	17. Definitely Indefinite

The first thing in Sebastian's mind was the strange warmth that was hitting his face. It made him calm inside, but his side was cold and there was flesh under his arms. That was when he realized that they were lying on the stone floor of the cave just beneath the rain coats he used as separation from the scratching surface and he was lying with Santana.

A peculiar heat spread through his chest then all throughout his body when he realized where they were and who it was under his embrace. He started panicking in his head, but was calmed when a hand reached up to his jaw and a kiss was planted on his lips. His eyes fluttered open and he saw Santana with a look in her eyes that would take him years to unravel the meaning of. He searched her face for something to say something about—but he found no words escaping his mind.

Instead, the heat just escalated as she leaned in again and brushed their lips together in a way… he pulled her closer as if space would scald him.

A dark trench coat was shielding their bodies from the cold that had passed the night. The rain had gotten calmer as the evening progressed so they had little problems with heat—besides, the heat they needed was already beside their selves.

She pulled away and he meant to pull her back, but he was already contradicting himself. Pulling her back would just make him feel bad about himself and he didn't need that at the moment. He just needed to sort himself out and—yeah, the priority was to go home.

She stood and looked over her shoulders before walking to the brink of the cave, checking the wet surroundings.

"Maybe we can head back now?" she asked, her voice weak and coarse. She refused looking at him anymore and he was all the more bothered.

"It's best we stay here," he replied, sitting up and running a hand through his disheveled hair. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he gathered the rain coat from under him. "They might already be looking for us. We don't need to lead them on."

She retreated back to the cave but sat herself on the other side, avoiding any contact with him, so she was annoyed because he was just looking at her like he was guarding her life.

"What're we gonna do now?" he asked, looking down then at her with meaning behind his eyes.

They both knew what he meant by that but they were both scared to elaborate on its meaning. It left both of them speechless for a few seconds before Santana decided to speak.

"We do nothing," she said, avoiding his sea-green eyes. "It's nothing… right? Because I needed… I mean, you're… it's just nothing."

It sounded like she was convincing herself rather than stating an argument, but it scathed him enough to throw her an angry look. Yes, this wasn't the right time to argue about something, but he was genuinely hurt. Not when he let her in at his most vulnerable state.

"You tell me it's nothing?" he said, narrowing his eyes at her. The raised tone in his voice made her look at him in surprise. "I looked for you! In the rain, Santana. I was worried to death. When I found you, I almost couldn't breathe because you looked like you were dying and I—I—I was scared as fuck. I'm afraid to lose you because..."

He lost the ability to continue that sentence because his heart was madly beating and another word in would just scare him. He was _scared _and this wasn't normal. He looked at her for signs, but she was just being stubborn.

He had just noticed that his face was contorted in anger, but hers was just sadly looking away. He felt an apologetic pang in his chest and he felt like he should apologize, but he couldn't. There are just some things he should keep to himself to not make things more complicated.

"You're really stubborn…" she said, smiling a little to herself. That smile faded as she met his eyes. "Can't you see? This is wrong… _so wrong_. We can't do this anymore. In a few days, I would be engaged to Sam and I'd be happy. At least that's what I think I would be, but until then, I have you to figure out and I can't really stay like this with you because I'm confused and I'm tired. I can't do this with you, Seb."

He met her with silence as he looked far away into the rising sun. His chest was heaving and his mind was blank. Had he really almost confessed to her his feelings? He did and it's not good. It will never be good.

"…besides," she said, looking away, "you're with Amber again, right?"

That statement made him focus on her once more with a perplexed expression on his face. "Who told you that? We're not—that's not true!"

She flinched at the rise of his tone and he was feeling that apologetic guilt again, but he pursed his lips to keep himself from saying something.

"It was nothing," he blurted out, massaging his forehead with his palms and closing his eyes.

It would always be like this; a constant denial of the obvious because both of them knew no better. If he did know better, he would have handled this more seriously. But for now, he had acted on impulse.

They passed the next few minutes in silence as he contemplated whether to say something else, to take back everything, or just let this be. Quite frankly, he's tired of being so conflicted. It just spins his head and he couldn't control it. Whenever she's around, she makes him question everything he has believed in; like, are they really enemies?

A sigh escaped his lips as he tried thinking about something else. He trusted that Jeff, Jackie and Nick are on their way to finding them so there has got to be no worries about that. The only worry would be about what happened last night and how it would probably consume them for as long as it takes.

There was a faint rush of wind and a faded yell. It sent Santana's heart into overload as she looked out of the brink and saw a glimpse of some people from a distance. She yelled back and she saw how the people from a distance averted their attention to their direction.

Sebastian was alerted immediately and started shouting with her, an involuntary smile spreading on his face as he recognized who the people are.

It was later then that he realized that Santana was in his embrace again and that neither of them had the chance to contemplate their actions. They broke away as fast as it happened that they were a good five feet away from each other when their friends and some coast guard people had found them.

They were briefly questioned and a bit reprimanded by the coast guard people, but knowing that neither of them had the knowledge of how treacherous the night was, they were let go. It was then that Sebastian realized that there was a mild cut on his right calf when the medic took care of him.

Other than that, there were no other injuries except maybe for some scraping on their backs because of the rough floor.

The last eye contact they had was at that moment when they were being ushered back to the villa. Even then, he had a hard time keeping his eyes away from her, but he had to.

* * *

They spent the whole plane ride back home as quietly as they could, save for some banter from Jeff and Nick in which they argue about who was better at something that Sebastian had no care of whatsoever. He knew that what they did in that cave would be nothing but a hazy memory; like a drunken night in a bar or a one night stand. That's what it really was: a one night stand.

He had been famous for his string of one night stands, all of which are now concealed by his father's enormous grasp on the media and its affiliates. He could easily discard this one as such… if he could. That's the problem: this had been a hidden desire ever since that first kiss at the park and that he had never realized how much he wanted this until he had her. And now, it's eating away every bit of sanity left in him because he craved for more, for her, and it's not good.

It was never good.

She was strategically seated at an angle where she didn't have to force herself to stop looking at the man she so whole-heartedly slept with. Craning her neck at that angle would just undoubtedly snap it, so this was good. Across her sat Jackie who was currently contributing to Nick and Jeff's childish conversation.

The boys were actually pretty comically funny, to be honest. They even put a faint smile on her lips with their little banters, and she wanted to join in the conversation as much as the next person, but she's too afraid to say something way out of line—or moreover, something to clue them in to what had happened that night. She just couldn't risk it.

One moment or another, they would notice how silent she had been, but she would bat away the question with a pretty believable excuse and they would accept it.

When they arrived at the airport, she immediately spotted Mike and Ulysses waiting for them in front of the same limousine they had ridden before. She was the first one off of the plane and on the car, giving both men brief greetings before sauntering over to the most secluded area of the vehicle. She was just so tired that she had almost fallen asleep immediately if not for the slamming of the door.

It didn't take long before they were in front of the manor.

Mike had taken the short ride to the manor as an opportunity to invite Jackie and the boys for a little rest inside for as long as they want as courtesy. Santana was too tired to argue against it so she let them. Besides, Sebastian wouldn't even meet her gaze so that's okay. She's just so tired she thought she was going to be able to walk to her room and just lay there and the world would just turn black on its own.

She expected when she wakes up that they'd be gone, especially meerkat-face.

But she was definitely in for a surprise that would leave her restless for days.

* * *

Pink.

It wasn't her favorite color—no, not in the least, he didn't even know what her favorite color is, but he took a wild guess and someone said pink is generally a color for girls so he thought it was just righteous. The balloons were pink, too, and he had no idea what happened to the banner taped on the entrance arc, but it looked menacing in a way.

He sighed. Here comes the limousine and he had already bet she would be tired as hell, but he had to do this. His right hand felt the exterior of his pocket, making sure that the box is still there. All he had to do was to get on one knee, look her in the eye with the sincerest emotion and say the words.

He assumed she'd say yes. She would definitely say yes.

He fumbled with the words in his mind as he watched her get off of the black luxury car, afraid to say the wrong ones or he may even say it backwards—he's just too freaking nervous.

He observed as her expression completely changed when she read the words imprinted on embossed silver with a large front on the entrance arc as it said, 'Welcome Home, Santana!'

Her jaw fell a fraction of an inch as she spotted him standing on her massive doorway. Whatever level of stress she was carrying had been diminished because this was it.

This was what she _feared_.

This was what she had been avoiding all along and now, she couldn't because this is it, this is happening and…

"Oh God…"

Sam Evans, in his handsome black tuxedo tailored for his own liking, standing on her front porch with a smile on his face should be the happiest prelude to the happiest moment of her life. But it isn't. It should be, but there was a deep pit in her stomach as she approached him.

And God, did he just get down on one knee?

And was he reaching into his pockets?

There it is, the red velvet box. It wasn't even open, but she already knew what it was.

And she didn't mind that pink was dominating her front porch, she just looked at Sam with wide eyes and a wider agape mouth. Her heart was pounding and it took her a few seconds to snap herself out of whatever trance it was that she had experienced to listen to Sam say those words.

"Santana Lopez… will you marry me?"

Her breath hitched followed by the formation of a few tears on the brink of her eyes. Her answer?

It was a choked, "Yes."

* * *

**AN: **So yeah, chapter 17 for you guys! Thanks for sticking with me. I am still blessed to have with me such wonderful readers. Hit up the review button and tell me what you think!

Next one would be a little filler so be warned. Ciao!


	18. The King's Speech

You know how in romantic comedies, the woman always says yes in the end when the man proposes or something? It's a modern day fairytale ending, one full of happiness and every nice little thing. It's always made in front of a lot of people or privately, either way, they're just as special. It's always like this:

The man gets down on one knee and somehow the girl would probably get an idea to where this might end. The man gets a happy look on his face, or you know, get tearful or something. The woman will react the same.

And when the question is popped, it's like prison. The girl would no longer answer a 'no' for a long time after that. It's always a 'yes', because that's the trend. Happiness is a trend in movies (well, most of them). They always end happy (except for most of those gruesome horror movies… but you get the point).

Right now, the world had stopped for a few crucial seconds as Santana contemplated her answer. It was a simple syllable that answered the most important question of her life. Will she marry Sam Evans?

Part of her mind equated the situation to the movies, that if saying yes to a marriage proposal brings happiness to the protagonist, maybe it will bring happiness to her, too.

The time had slowed down as she turned her head to glance at the people behind her, all of them with fazed expressions on their faces—but Sebastian looked stoic. He was calm, but there was something in his eyes that told her otherwise.

When she turned her head back to look at Sam, time had regained its natural speed. She was immediately inside his strong embrace and a kiss was being planted on her lips. It felt like a routine, not something special anymore. Before, it felt new and real, but now…

It was just guilt and wrongness. How could she full-on kiss Sam Evans, the man who had never wronged her and took care of her, with the lips that had kissed Sebastian Smythe, the man who she was supposed to hate? It was wrong because it didn't feel the same anymore.

It's all funny, really. He could just laugh at himself for this because he was looking at the man that he had brawled with before, hugging and kissing the vixen he so loathed but secretly slept with and this does not usually happen to a normal human being. How did things get so complicated?

Life could never get more complicated than this.

Blood was rushing beneath his ears that he could literally hear his heart beat madly, but he managed to look like he was fine with it.

What is this? What is this sinking feeling in his stomach, like there was something sucking at his insides? It was painful and his chest was constricting like air was involuntarily leaving his lungs. What is this?

_These are called feelings, Sebastian. Most people have them, but congratulations, you grew one! Don't be a pussy._

He was battling with the voice inside his head. Feelings aren't his forte; it never was his stronger attribute. People know him for his charms, his manly demeanor, and his suave appearance, but never because of his humanity. He was cold solely for the reason that his family hated him and that because he was never the good child.

These… feelings… they don't suit him. Up until Amber happened, he had thought having these feelings were virtually impossible for him. And then, he was shot down and was put in a dark place after that. He was never the same… never will be.

But these feelings are new. He had never felt them—even when he was with Amber. It was like discovering a new chemical element. He knew what it was, he knew that it belongs to the periodic table, but he didn't know what to do with it. It's confusing and complicated at the same time—the need to investigate, to explore, and to possibly experiment.

He should have made a personalized warning sign and glue it on his back, one that says:

**Do not give feelings. Dangerous.**

It's like giving a child a knife, he would not know what to do with it or how dangerous it is until he's stabbed himself a couple of times in the chest. Gruesome, yes, but it depicts Sebastian Smythe the best possible way.

_Look at her, Sebby. She's as happy as fuck and you're being a little coward. Now, go home and cry yourself to sleep every fucking night._

His inner voice is right. She does look happy from where he was standing and it was not because of him.

He looked at them once more with a renewed smile on his face as he walked with heavy soles.

Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, he nodded at him and said, "Congratulations, Evans."

Sam looked at him with a tight smile, almost as if saying, "Yeah, I forgive you, and suck it," before answering.

"Thank you, Smythe."

He refused to meet Santana's curious gaze as he turned to enter the car that had been waiting specifically for the three of them. The expression on his face was unrecognizable, but Nick knew, as Sebastian walked past them, that something was definitely up.

They passed their greetings to the couple before returning to the vehicle.

Before Jackie reached the car, her attention was caught by Santana's voice.

"Wait, aren't you going to stay and rest… for a while?"

She smiled a sad smile as she surveyed the way Sam held Santana's waist with a smile on his face and shook her head. "I don't think so, San, and I'm so sorry, but thanks anyway. Congratulations again, dear!"

She waved briefly before stepping into the car.

It wasn't as spacious as the limousine they had ridden before reaching the mansion, if anything, it was almost cramped so she had no difficulty surveying everybody's expressions. Nick, who was seated beside Sebastian, was concerned, just like Jeff who was beside Jackie, but she, herself, was kind of livid.

In front of her seated was Sebastian with his head turned to the window overlooking the happy couple.

"What was that, Sebastian?" she half-hissed, half-yelled at him. "I was waiting for you to do something—

"If you know me well enough, you'd know that I never meet expectations," he replied, a coarse tone in his voice.

Jackie sighed as she leaned back on the cushioned seat.

The engine roared to life and the vehicle started moving, which pissed Jackie off even more because that meant there's no stopping this now.

It took her the whole trip to compose herself and to compose something to say because quite frankly, she has got a lot of things to say and she needed to make it stick on his stuck-up mind. They boys were fairly quiet, so when she stopped Sebastian from reaching for the door, she was met with quietly surprised glances.

"Stop," she demanded, grabbing his wrist. She then looked at the other guys and said, "You two, leave. Now."

Nick looked at Jeff but he just shrugged so they were forced to exit the car under her command. To be honest, Jackie Stoltz is scary when she speaks in one-syllabled words.

When they were finally alone, she released her grasp on his wrist and shook her head at him.

"You know what, Sebastian?" she asked, leaning back again, trying to collect herself. "I don't know what to do with you anymore—and don't even think of pushing _me _away again because I am not leaving. You're my friend and… Seb, I love you and I owe you a lot—

"—I'll stop you right there, Jackie," he said, giving her a humorless laugh, but he was met with an open palm right in front of his face.

"You listen to me, asshole!" she half-yelled, half-scolded at him, a stern but weary look on her beautiful face. And for once, Sebastian saw what love was. He felt like a fool realizing this, but he was taken aback and it's definitely a first.

It definitely caught him off-guard so he had to shut up.

"Listen, okay?" she asked, relaxing again. She took a deep breath and continued. "I care about you and I can't live my life knowing that the Sebastian Smythe that directed me to my right path is slowly killing himself…"

She took a break from speaking, in which Sebastian added, "You have a way with words."

She gave him a stern look, but smiled a little to herself. Sure, this asshole is sort of cocky and really conceited, but she had grown to love that about him.

"I want to help you, Sebastian," she continued. "Like, seriously help you—

She was abruptly interrupted by both of their phones going off at the same time. They looked at each other with perplexity and took the little things out of their pockets.

It was suspicious enough that the gadgets went off at the same time, but it turned out that they were both sent the same web article on a credible website also. And the content will shock the whole industry as much as it shocked both of them.

* * *

Mike Chang had them sit down on the living room as he paced in front of them, his knuckles under his chin as he contemplated what to say.

It had happened so fast—that's how viral the news was and it had come from an unknown source. He had already contacted one of the best private investigators in the state to dig into the case as immediately as it happened, but he knew that this was not enough.

The press had already gotten their grips on it and there's no stopping it now. Give it a full hour and their front porch would be filled with people with cameras and questions and…

He glanced at Santana and saw that she was visibly trying so hard not to shake in fear. But he already saw her tremble in Sam Evan's embrace and…

"We have to stay calm," he said, more to himself than to Santana. "We're not gonna answer any questions, nor give any comment, okay? Especially you, San."

But she wasn't listening anymore. In her mind, she was asking herself if this was a nightmare—because it would be so much better. But it was not and it's breaking her already broken heart.

Somehow, while on their vacation, someone had managed to hack into the most guarded facility of the Enterprise and break into the archives to find the document that will solely be the downfall of everything her grandfather had worked on. And she can't have that.

It would be her fault.

It would be her freaking fault because it was her on that document, it was her information on that little file and it was her who would probably take the blame and everything.

_This isn't happening._

* * *

Weeks had passed and they seriously thought that time would calm the uproar, but they were wrong. The news got noisier and noisier by the day and when they couldn't hide from it anymore, they decided to hold a public meeting.

Everyone was there.

The Lopez Enterprise building rooftop was filled with media people, journalists, news reporters, magazine editors, bloggers and photographers. She could see the cameras, the lights, and the notepads and it made her stomach churn and turn. It made her sick.

Good thing Sam's dad was there to back her up in case something happens. He was standing right behind her with a tight smile on his face as Mike tapped the microphone on the podium in front of him. Her gaze found Ulysses standing a few feet away from her, steady and ready in case something happens.

Sam was beside her, holding her hand gently and looking far ahead at the small gathering of people.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Mike said, his voice booming into the sound system. "We will now answer questions accordingly in an orderly manner."

A petite man with a balding head on the third row raised his hand and Mike immediately recognized that it was Manuel Pearson from _The G Gazette_. It was the first magazine-blog to publish the information about a day and a half after it spread.

Mike nodded at him and he stood, notepad and pen ablaze, "Miss Santana Lopez, I am Manuel Pearson, editor-in-chief of The G Gazette. I just wanna ask you, are these just rumors or are they true? Because based on our private investigations, the documents were real and weren't forged. Do you have anything to say about it?"

The feeling that people have been investigating on you, digging in and trying to prove theories, trying to find out who she really is when, in fact, she didn't even know her own self either… it was disturbing.

She stepped forward, never letting go of Sam's hand as she desperately wondered why it wasn't comforting her as much as she wanted it to.

"It was never a secret to begin with, Mister Pearson," she replied, looking at Mike for approval with the lie that she was about to tell. She saw him nod and so she proceeded. "My grandfather just chose not to out the information to the public. I was given a family and a chance to do everything I wanted to do and I would never complain about anything."

Her statement sprung a lot of other questions and her head swirled in confusion. She was hearing nothing but a jumble of words and callings, but that was it. There was nothing she could recognize.

"Next question!" Mike roared on his own microphone, his effort of making the crowd silent paying off little by little.

A petite young woman with bleach blonde hair and vibrant pink lipstick stuck her hand out, her tiny blazer riding up her blouse-clad torso. She was a little bubbly for a news reporter, Santana thought, as the woman stood and made her way to the front row with a grin.

"Hi!" the woman spoke into the microphone, "my name is Janine Johnson from _Eve's Drop_. Let me ask you: what does this make of the Lopez Enterprise? Reports say that stocks had been on an all-time low for the past few days mainly because of this news spreading like wildfire, Miss Lopez. If this continues, the industry will possibly be rid of its most powerful competition."

There was a menacing tone in that lady's voice and none of them liked it one bit. The hand around Santana's small one tightened as Sam tensed beside her.

And for the first time, she had nothing to say. She was frozen. Why? Because even the person she was relying on getting her strength from was afraid and tensed. A few seconds of silence was enough to start another tirade of questions, all the while, Santana could see the devilish grin on the woman's face and it made her heart stop.

Strong hands touched her arms and made her look at the person, seeing it was Samuel with a look that said, "Leave this to me."

She stepped away from the podium and let the older man speak.

"Please quiet down, ladies and gentlemen!" he spoke, garnering a few murmurs from the crowd. "There is no need to worry, my son, Sam Evans, Jr. is marrying our beloved Santana Lopez this coming Wednesday, thus joining the corporations and harboring the trust of many more investors—that, we are proud to announce!"

_Wednesday. _That's two days from then. They were going to get married in two days.

Two days.

She looked up at Sam who looked like he had just also heard the news right then. But his expression recovered as he looked at Santana with a confident grin on his face. Sure, it should have brought Santana some kind of relief, but it didn't. It made her feel worse.

In a matter of seconds, the rooftop was filled with an uproar far worse than the first ones. It scared the hell out of her that she gazed over at Mike who has his eyes wide, probably because of the sudden news.

Santana looked back at Sam and whispered, "Isn't it too early? I mean, we haven't even made plans yet—

"Dad's got it covered," he replied with an equally quiet tone. "All you have to do is pick a wedding dress and some people for the aisle, Tana. You don't have to worry."

She gave him a small smile, but inside, she did worry for a reason that's yet to be discovered.

The uproar that went after was what made Mike's decision of cutting the conference off a bit early than usual. They were escorted down the building and to the older Evans' workplace to discuss a few things about the wedding.

All the while, she could feel a sinking feeling in her stomach—maybe it was because whenever she looked at Sam, he looked a bit anxious, too, and it wasn't what she expected of him… or maybe because it was something else.

* * *

Sebastian Smythe was sitting on the couch across the television of his spacious condominium, awaiting his friends, Jeff and Jackie, who suggested they see a movie that night, but knowing how stubborn their friend is, brought DVDs with them just in case he doesn't approve. And he didn't, so they were on to plan B.

He groaned as he looked at the title of one of the DVDs they brought: _Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow_.

What a waste of time, he thought, as he scanned the television for something worthwhile to look at before being tortured with mediocre movies done under a small budget.

He flicked through the channels but immediately stopped when he saw a familiar landscape.

It was a rooftop—no, it was the Enterprise's rooftop and people were gathered to listen to the daughter speak. As much as he wanted to change the channel, he couldn't because they were already halfway through it and the older Evans was speaking. There was already a ruckus, but after the old Sam Evans' statement, it became worse.

"…_marrying our beloved Santana Lopez on Wednesday…_" the rest were a blur, but this one came out clear, "_…that, we are proud to announce!_"

Jeff and Jackie, they were too late as they stood behind the couch and listened to the TV. Their goal was simple as to why they went there that evening: to stray Sebastian's mind away from the current happenings as they try to figure out what to do to help him out.

Looks like they failed as they watched him bury his face in his hands and double over to rest his elbows on his knees. He was visibly shaking that they hurriedly placed the popcorn and the beer on the table to sit beside him and tell him comforting things… but they weren't helping.

He was already done.

* * *

**AN: **Hey guys, I lied. This isn't a filler. HAHAHAHAH.

Anyways, we're so close to the end and I just want to thank you for sticking with me, and although I tend to get emotional writing these kinds of things, I feel that I should apologize for the mistakes, the downfalls and everything that upset my lovely readers, and to also thank every body for being supportive with your reviews. They were my fuel.

This is a long Author's Note already, but I'd like to say that even after the series of chapters, I will still be posting a few stuff in relation to this story: e.g., the cut version/alternate ending, the meanings behind the chapter titles, and a few more. So stick around!

And hit that review button now! Ciao!


	19. Yes, Maybe

**AN: **Hey guys, I'm sorry about the long wait and sorry if this is just a filler, but hey! Thanks for sticking around. Only one more chapter to go so... yeah, emotional. But can't wait! And yes, classes had started so hectic hectic hectic. Hit up that review button and tell me what you think.

Ciao!

* * *

"You're marrying her tomorrow," she said, her golden hair bouncing around her angelic face as she turned around to look at the boy she had been secretly dating.

Sam Evans opened his mouth to protest, but he knew that it wasn't right to do so. He and Quinn Fabray had been dating for a few months now and nobody knows about it, except maybe some friends, but that was it. They were going under everyone's noses to go through dating. It was damn hard, and as a matter of fact, they could just cut the act and call it done, but as much as it was a burden hiding their relationship, no one ever brought up the fact that they could just stop.

What she said was true and he wasn't in the right position to change things…

_Or maybe he is._

"I am," he said, looking at her eyes directly. "But… but Quinn, I like you… and I'm figuring something out—please give me time!"

Her golden eyes, much to his dismay, looked away from him and into a safe distance from his gaze. They settled on the bed…

His heart skipped as he remembered, not only the nights they spent on that piece of furniture, but also the mornings and the whole days.

Santana… they had stopped doing _it _ever since she came back from her vacation, save that one time he proposed to her, but it wasn't… he hated thinking about it, but it wasn't as great as when he was with Quinn. He hated thinking of himself as a cheater, but he was and there's not a thing he can do about it because he likes Quinn and… yeah, he _loves _Quinn, but he couldn't bring himself to saying it… yet.

"I don't want you to go," she said, still not looking at him.

He blinked a couple of times, maybe to prevent the tears from coming or maybe because he was amused at her words and their constant effect on him, but either way, he's completely taken aback.

He knew what she meant by those words, and he wouldn't like it if she were to go, too. He was too attached that he can't and won't ever let go.

He spoke only the words of truth. "I won't. Ever."

So he had to figure out what to do, but he has an entire idea in his mind.

* * *

"You did a pretty good job, devil," she purred, looking at him through menacing eyes.

There in front of her stood the slickest criminal who had done a pretty sweet job of what was now the loudest uproar of the industry. She felt quite proud of what she had done for the older Evans, for her _daddy_. Now that that's out of the way, she could become the most renowned person in America's media industry.

With her ties, the daughter of the deceased competitor becoming her sister-in-law, her step daddy's empire rising, she could become more famous than she already was.

"Every media, every TV news, every ear in this industry has heard of the Lopez's downfall…" he said, giving her a confident smirk. "Your daddy would be _so _proud, mademoiselle."

"Good," she returned and nodded.

"Now… that deal, mademoiselle," he replied, as equally quietly, taking a step closer to the woman sitting behind that elegant mahogany desk.

She nodded ever so slightly with a grin on her face and slid a brown envelope over the smooth top of the clean mahogany desk. The man slowly walked closer and took the envelope, opened it and smirked.

His hazel eyes met her equally golden ones with a mischievous glint, keeping his infamous smirk and his arrogant aura. God knows what happened that afternoon, but it sure felt like another win for our Jesse St. James.

* * *

_What happens when the entire world comes crashing down? How does it happen? Is it like what he's feeling now? Is it?_

He could feel their sympathy because they know now. They know about his feelings, the feelings he so hardly ever showed anybody. The pats on the back, the comforting words, they were because they can tell that he's devastated—but no, he is far from devastated. He was disappointed with himself.

There were so many opportunities, so many chances that he could have taken if he were just a little bit braver or… or stronger. He could have told her, but his ego took over him before his feelings could and now, he's trapped between killing himself with these feelings and just being dead to the world.

_Come on, Sebastian. There are so many things in this world that's worth more than Santana Lopez._

Yes.

Maybe.

But that's not how he's feeling. Everything now has been all about Santana Lopez and the things she's making him do and feel and become. It's tiring and it's not pleasant, but how did falling in love ever become pleasant?

_Falling in love?_

Yes.

Maybe.

It's a bit easier now that he's admitted it to himself, but it didn't take away the fact that it's too late and he's too scared. Not so long ago, he was undirected and carefree, trying to annoy the hell out of his dad so that he could get away from his grip. He used to love the feeling of getting on magazines' gossip pages and in tabloids.

Now, he's the content of so many things that he's feeling like he's surrounded and his life isn't private anymore. But, hell, when he had kissed her for the first time, he felt something he hadn't felt before. He felt natural.

It was the corniest thing to ever cross his mind, but the reason he had kissed her that second time, that night when he punched Sam in the face, was because he was meaning to return that feeling of naturalness. He was craving for it—for her.

He felt the couch creak as Jeff stood to answer his phone, leaving Jackie with him. He wasn't even listening to anything anymore. He was just numb.

"_Hey, Jeff," _it was Nick. _"It's Nick, I just received a phone call from Santana. Have you heard the news yet?"_

Jeff cleared his throat and replied. "Yeah, just watched it on the TV. I… I think Seb's taking it too hard. What's up with the phone call?"

"_San just asked me to be the best man," _he replied. _"I already said yes, Jeff. What're we gonna do?"_

"Can you… can you talk to Santana? Like, alone?" he asked, running his tongue along his lips. "I know you have something to say—say it to her, make her realize. Nick, please, I don't think we can do so much anymore," he said, running a hand through his hair and looking over his shoulder to his girlfriend and his disheveled friend.

He heard Nick cough from the other end of the line before saying, _"Yeah, okay, I'll try my best. Just… don't get any of your hopes up."_

* * *

He had just come home from Quinn's apartment after that conversation and he had gathered his courage up so that he could talk to his dad about his plans of not going through with the wedding—only in his mind, he could imagine his dad saying 'no' and launching into a hearty speech about… well, things.

He marched right into the hallway that contained the door to his dad's office, replaying his own speech in his head in hopes that he might hear him out instead of contradicting.

He also knew that his dad would only be in his office this time of the day, doing paper work or talking to someone on the phone. What he didn't understand was the female voice in the office talking to a man.

He quickly recognized who the female was, it was his step-sister, Amber. The man she was talking to was another mystery, but he couldn't help listening.

"…_every ear in the industry has heard about the Lopez's downfall… your daddy would be so proud, mademoiselle."_

"_Good."_

Sam's breath hitched at this. Not only his sister, but also his father. That's why he was so willing to help the Lopez Enterprise to get back on its feet—it's because he would _own _it once it's down. This was all a plot and he's one of the puppets.

It felt like everything he has ever believed in has come crashing down. The father he once admired had become the sole reason of his despair—but not only his, but also Santana's.

He knew now what to do.

This is so wrong.

* * *

**AN: **Hit that review button now! Love lots!


	20. A Beautiful Mess

**AN: **Oh my God, guys. This is it.

* * *

The place was empty.

It wasn't a surprise to him now. Everything had been according to an order of events—sometimes, absurd, sometimes just right. But now, it was meant to be.

Nicholas Duval, dressed sharply for a wedding, looked ahead at the empty altar. Some may say, if ever to catch a glimpse of him sitting on one of the pews on the far end of the chapel, that he is too early. Some may say he's too late. Either way, he's just looking and waiting for something to happen… because something will.

His heart was longing for something to happen because the events had led to this and it could not be for nothing. Not now.

The aisle was decorated with white and pink flowers, flowers he did not care to know the name of, although their scent managed to calm him a bit. No, not to take it wrongly, he's a calm person. Generally, at times like these, he's fine and collected. But he's a little shaken and a little bit hopeless.

It was a simple wedding with maybe a little too many guests, judging from the additional pews the church people had added. The walk extended until the end of the aisle, an elegantly decorated arc at the beginning of the red carpet designed with golden laces and a huge white satin that draped just above where the arc curved.

A walk down that aisle would be memorable.

But at that moment, it's empty.

Who's to say he's too early? Who's to say he's too late? There are just so many—maybe too many—chances to let pass. A smart person like his friend would not let too many to pass him. He'd be up on his feet by now… he just needed a little push. Maybe harder, but just enough.

* * *

It wasn't expected. Sam Evans did not purely expect her to show up, but she did.

He was already in his suit, a little Carnation in his breast pocket. Just above the chapel are luxury suites made specifically for the couple to spend some time in before the wedding. He had been pacing his suite for quite some time now, ever since walking into it. He had let a few people in to ask him if he needed something. He would answer with a brief no and let them walk away.

He did not entirely believe Quinn when she said she would show up, but she did and quite frankly, it gave him confidence in what he's about to do.

"So, are you…?" she asked, not even bothering to finish her question when she found Sam closing in and grabbing her waist, kissing her.

When they pulled away, that was when he answered. "Yes, no backing out now. I have it with me, don't worry."

She felt him tighten his grip on her waist and she smiled.

Everybody knows how afraid his father is of the crooks that surround the world—that he would never trust even his most honest employees. So, he installed a security camera on every corner of his office, complete with an audio recording device on every crevice to ensure the safety of the files inside his lair. Unbeknownst to his step-sister, the cameras were on for a whole twenty-four hours on every day of the week.

Earlier, he had gotten a grip on the CCTV tape of that night when he found out about Amber and one Jesse St. James, apparently an infamous hacker. He also checked every video recording that had happened the past few days to check if there were other meeting days to add to his evidence. He had gotten more than what he needed. It was enough proof to take down his father and his sister's plotting, one flash drive to end it all and it's in his pocket. But…

There was this insistent nagging at the back of his mind telling him that it was wrong. That his father was still his father and that his decisions were somehow for the better. He was still trying to convince himself that he had to let it be, that if he would not do anything, it would be just as it is.

Only, he would be imprisoned by his dad's decisions furthermore.

That little material residing inside his pocket is the key to everyone's, especially his and Santana's, freedom. He would just need the courage to do it.

* * *

How does it feel to be in prison? She could only imagine the feeling of seeing monotonous walls, same faces splattered with expressions of doubt, longing, sadness, hostility and anger. Confinement drives people mad.

Her head was spinning now as she looked up from the bed. The ceiling wasn't exactly stable in her vision and her stomach wasn't exactly fine. It was turning and churning and making her feel queasy. She was alone in the suite at the other end of the building—away from Sam's.

Her wedding dress, a long flowing white river of silk and satin, hung from the couch and sprawled on the floor as she, herself, was sprawled on the bed with her eyes then closed to prevent the world from spinning out of control.

Her breathing was heavy but ragged.

She was feeling almost every feeling there is to feel that is related to dread—but what she mostly felt was guilt. Just like most imprisoned people, either innocent or not, she felt guilt bubbling at the pit of her stomach. She felt guilty mostly because she did not do something about this and now it's too late. She had a loud voice, just enough to be heard, but she did not say anything about it.

You know what she's thinking about?

One person and one thing only: Sebastian Smythe and his whereabouts.

Ever since she said yes that fateful day, she has got to be honest, she never did think of anything but him. When the older Evans announced the wedding day, her mind raced to only one thought: _him_. You know what? She tried _running into _him every available day since he decided to move out. She tried finding him, but he seemed invisible, like he ran out of her life.

The guilt was like torture and as if life hasn't given her everything to worry about, it gave her the issue about her grandfather and her identity.

Sure, the noise about it hasn't gone completely out, but she had gotten over it almost immediately. Mike had taken care of quieting it down for quite some time, giving her some well-deserved space to breathe and be herself.

Breathe. That was what she was supposed to do at that moment, because her lungs were heaving with effort. She's getting married in less than four hours, but she was still in her robe, unprepared and scared and guilty, her phone in her hand and meaning to call… well, call him.

If she ever did call, she wouldn't know what to say and she would just look or sound stupid. She might utter some stutter, but may just be about it. But she's there, she just couldn't bring herself to even unlock her phone.

A constant rapping on her door made her decide to stand up. If it hadn't been for that, she would have stayed lying on the bed for as long as it would take as long as she wasn't interrupted. She thought, maybe, they would be calling the wedding off—something happened, hopefully?

She made her way to door and when she opened it, the people standing behind weren't who she expected to show up.

There stood Mercedes and Brittney, both in their costumes for the wedding, their faces contorted in confusion. She met them with her mouth slightly ajar, meaning to explain, but nothing came out of her mouth.

So, she closed it and let them enter, pushing the door close behind her.

"We know how you feel," Mercedes started, watching as Santana dropped herself on the bed across the dress she had lain out on the couch. "And if you feel like this isn't right, you can tell us right away."

Brittney sat on the spot next to Santana, looking at her through her bright blue eyes as she contemplated on what to say to her bedraggled friend.

She was never good with words. Some say she lacks intellect, but no one can destroy her or her standing when she says that she firmly believes that unicorns are one of the most endangered species and that the last unicorn is hiding somewhere—

So she held her best friend's hand and gave her a weak, but encouraging smile. Santana felt the need to return it, but her grin came out weaker and more vulnerable than she had intended it to be.

She thought about what to say, what to reveal, but in her head she could only think of one thing.

"This is wrong," she said under her breath, lying back down on the comfort of the bed and sighing. "I have always wanted a happy ending…"

She sat straight up and sighed again, looking at both her friends before continuing, "And I have always thought I'd find it in Sam. I thought I was in love…"

She heard Mercedes utter a little sound of apology before joining them on the bed.

"I guess I was wrong—this isn't how it's supposed to feel, right? This isn't how it's supposed to feel like when you're hours away from getting married to the person you love. And for some reason…"

She stopped.

Her thoughts were caught up in a web that pronounces nothing but only one name. And now she's too scared to continue, to verbally confirm something she hadn't even realized before.

"Say it, Sanny," Brittney cooed, sweetly nudging her friend's shoulder. "You will never be sure unless you say it out loud—not with my pronunciations at least."

It was unspoken. Her friends had noticed her lack of witty comments, the somehow misplaced maturity in terms of her choices and the way she handled the situation—it wasn't her. It was far from her and they can tell that it's really affecting the way she reacts on things.

Santana was caught off guard by Brittney's innocence that she couldn't help but smile a little at this. The girl has a point. She wouldn't be able to confirm this unnerving feeling if she wouldn't recognize its evident existence.

"It's… it's Sebastian," she said, looking down at the elegant carpet beneath her feet. "I-it started when my grandfather died… he… he immediately left the manor. I felt…"

It is a given fact now that most people avoid making cheesy retaliations because they are absurdly absurd and they make people feel awkward. The same could be said about Santana. Saying that she felt empty without Sebastian around would just make her look like a lovesick teenage girl.

She's not.

She's a mature woman who knows what she needs to do and what she needs…

"…empty," she continued, looking at them with glassy eyes.

That's the thing about realization. It feels worse if you only realize it when it's way past you, not when it was right in front of you. And it comes at the worst of times, giving the worst feelings. But there will always be a strange comforting feeling about confirming something about a doubt—it's so strange in a way that it was supposed to feel bad, but for some reason, it does not, and instead, it eases the supposed pain.

She unlocked her phone, scrolled through her contacts until she found his name and clicked on it, putting the phone on her ear and sighing.

There was ringing on the other line, constant shrill ringing, but no answer. And she waited, her heart thumping madly in her chest as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Her thoughts in a tangled web became clearer every second.

The line went into voicemail and suddenly, her throat closed.

The realization broke her heart, but it gave her a sense of direction.

She's in love, but not with Sam.

* * *

It's tragic how it came to be like this. He had been too in love to know that he is and it's tragic because when he finally realized it, it was too late.

And fuck it, when he's in love, he's got to be honest, it consumes him—his energy, his thoughts, his self. Everybody is. That's the tragic thing about love, when it's there, it's a monster. But when it's not, when people are trying to find it, it's this innocent thing that entices eyes and hearts. He hates being in love…

But when it's with her, with that fiery woman who gives a bad name to all the other elitist-born women, that derogating vixen, it just feels like he's found his match. Like… _match._

But long ago, he had taken an oath that he, Sebastian Smythe, would never fall in love again. People are just too selfish to love someone else—and yes, there's that fact that he is, too. But that's why falling in love with him is too dangerous, too consuming. And him falling in love with someone else is like Kobayashi Maru in Star Trek—death is inevitable.

Well, maybe not death, but the mere fact that all his past relationships had been nothing but destructive was enough to make him realize that it will only end in… well, it will definitely end and not in a pleasant way.

But when it's with her… he had never been this keen on letting someone know how he feels. He had never been this intimate with anybody—he had let her in in some way he never let anyone else and that's why he's feeling a little new to this situation.

His friends know how much of a recluse he is, that if he could cover up an emotion, he definitely would. But it's the knowledge that he had tried so hard to hide everything from her, but they kept coming back was like the last piece of the puzzle.

He's in love. He's fucking in love with the person he used to not get—with the person he used to pretend with.

_Pretend._

That used to be the game. They pretend every day and when it's done, it's done. But there came a point in it that when it's done, it didn't seem like it to him. It never ceased and, in its unceasing, became a reality that he could never have envisaged.

The rain had already poured madness all over New York and it's getting past noon. The ceremony had already started but he's still sitting by his condominium window, waiting for something to happen.

Jeff and Jackie had stayed the night before, convincing him to stay alive for them, as if he'd do anything stupid because of what had happened. He's not suicidal, not the least.

He could feel their stares at his back, all contemplating and thinking and making assumptions about him and his 'condition', about how they can change it and maybe, just maybe, make him do something about it. But he's bound to this—and maybe, even if he tried, he could not fully grasp the entirety of love and the things he should do for it.

It was just too big for his capacity, which everybody knows to be small.

The sky was crying too hard, so he scoffed.

"Aren't you supposed to be going somewhere?" asked Jackie, looking at him with concern in her eyes.

"No," he answered, turning to look at her. "Why would I?"

He stood and gave her a sarcastic smile before turning to head to his room, slamming the door behind him. He was sure he heard her sigh, but he dismissed it and instead grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

He was surprised to see that there was a missed call.

From Santana.

He clicked on the voicemail, but all he heard on the other end was dead silence.

That was when he realized how much he wanted to hear something from beyond that line, how much he wanted to hear her voice, and for once, not on TV or on the news. He wanted to hear her talking to him, or just saying a word. One word. For him.

A chill went down his spine just before he came to a decision.

Bolting from his room to grab his coat and his keys, he knew he'd get there in time if he could just beat the speed limit.

* * *

Everyone was there, Sam's dad and mom, her mom and a bunch of people she did not even know the name of. Maybe family or close relatives, or friends, but she could not focus on them. She could only focus on the fear in her chest as the priest led the ceremony, reading a few lines from the bible and lecturing on the importance of respecting matrimony.

There was this thing about weddings that always makes them look solemn and serious. They used to look happy for Santana, watching some friends marry and smile and feel light. But now, it just felt serious.

Her head was in a blur, but she had managed to smile to the guests as she first walked down that aisle a few minutes earlier. Now, she could not bring herself to thread the words together.

She could just be wishing for a miracle to happen, but she could not bring herself to expecting for it to happen.

Slowly now…

She was losing what little hope she had when she first walked down that aisle that she would be saved for now, because when it got to the part where the priest would ask about objections and no one even stood to tell her that it's not right to marry someone you don't love, she knew it would be a dead end for her.

The vows. She had prepared hers weeks before, revising, rewriting, and even consulting some of her friends to help her out, because she wasn't full-heartedly dedicated to it that she had committed a few mistakes.

He came first,

"Santana Lopez… when I first met you, I knew you'd be the girl for me…"

That was when she had stopped processing what he's saying. There was something in Sam's eyes that seemed bothered, troubled, maybe as equally as she was.

She had to be tapped by the priest so that she could snap out of her trance to say her vows, saying it slowly in hopes that something will happen instead…

But nothing did.

Her body froze when she heard the priest say, "Do you, Santana Marie Lopez, accept Samuel Evans, Jr. as your lawfully wedded husband?"

She looked the man in the eye before turning to Sam, his eyes sincerely afraid and she could feel it. She turned her head to the crowd, some murmuring, some smiling and she could just feel it all coming down to her. She could not say 'no'.

"Yes."

"And do you, Samuel Evans, Jr., accept Santana Marie Lopez as your lawfully wedded wife?"

He did the same, turned to the crowd and saw the familiar expectant crowd before turning to her, his lips pursed and his eyes afraid and lost.

Instead of answering, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something that he hid in between his two hands, grabbing hers and putting the thing in between her palms.

He then grabbed her and embraced her, whispering, "Santana, I love you, but not enough to continue. I know you've been through a lot and I hope this would get you through everything. I'm sorry for everything, but I just can't continue."

He meant to pull away, but Santana pulled him in again, whispering in the same low voice, "I love you, too, and thank you."

She let him now pull away and face the priest, and then the people, saying in a loud and clear voice his answer to the question.

"No."

Somehow, though, all Santana could see was the reaction of his father, his old eyes widening at his son's answer, watching him as he ran to the end of the chapel and shouting his name, some obscenities, before watching him meet a golden-haired woman in front of the chapel.

Santana clutched the thing in her hands, holding on to it as if it has got the answers to her problems.

The older Evans looked at the bride with wide unbelieving eyes before taking off after his son, some of the guests following suit until only a few had remained. That few walked up to her and told her their apologies before leaving the chapel.

She had not noticed who the only person left behind was, so she ran up to her suite to get a good look at what Sam had given her, which turned out to be an eight-gigabyte flash drive. She opened it on the laptop and gasped as she watched a three-hour long surveillance video, Amber and Samuel talking to someone named Jesse to hack into the Lopez Enterprise…

It felt like her whole world had stopped spinning.

This was why.

She could feel her lungs constricting air out of them, her eyes welling with tears as she sat on her bed, still on her wedding dress.

* * *

Some may say he's too early, some may say he's too late.

But it's better late than never, right?

And as the front doors of the chapel opened, he turned to see Sebastian Smythe, out of breath and looking far ahead at the empty altar he was staring at a few moments ago.

He then noticed Nick, sitting on the last pew, and his eyes turned sad.

"Is it done?" he asked, expecting him to answer yes because it looked like it.

"Yes," he answered, giving him a weak smile, which puzzled him more. "But, it will always be a story with a twist ending to tell."

His brows perked at this statement. "What happened?"

"Seems that the groom had been seeing someone else from behind our backs," he replied, standing up to meet his friend. "Samuel bailed and left San before he could confirm."

Sebastian's lips parted in surprise, his green eyes widening in disbelief. "Where is she?"

"She's upstairs," he said, "Apparently, Sam had given her something other than a goodbye."

* * *

"You're late," she said, not even bothering to look at him.

He had rummaged through every one of the doors of the ten rooms upstairs the chapel to find hers, opening it and stopping at the door frame when he saw her.

But he was there and his heart was hammering, seeing her crying as she stared at the screen of her laptop. Suddenly, everything that he had rehearsed in his mind before reaching the chapel, the words, the actions, everything had vanished and he was blanked out.

All he could mutter was, "I'm here now."

"You _were _late," she countered, now looking up at him with her smudged mascara. But unusual of her to put such a light dab of make up like she had expected to cry at her wedding. "I was waiting," she added.

_She was waiting. _

"Why?" he asked, stepping inside. "Why were you waiting?"

"Because…" she started, but her crying had escalated.

They both knew he sucked at this, at comforting people. He had tried once during her grandfather's funeral, but it did not seem to work. Or if it did, she didn't show it.

"Why are you here?" she asked through her sobs, finally calming down a bit.

Maybe it had taken over her, the things she had gone through, and maybe this was a result. It just pains him a bit that he could not make her feel better.

"Because…" he said, mimicking her tone a while ago, smiling a bit as her eyes lit up at the mockery.

"You shouldn't have come," she said, wiping her cheeks with her forearm. "We're done pretending, right? I'm not your business anymore."

As if in response, the lightning lit up the room and the thunder crackled right after it, sending the dead silence into an even deader one.

"That's just stupid!" Sebastian roared, his voice making her jump a little and it was enough for him to wish he hadn't raised his voice like that.

She got up and glowered at him before pushing past him and running away and down the hall. The rain was pouring so he wondered as he ran after her where she would go.

He called her name as if doing so would bring a stop to her, but she didn't. Instead, she ran outside and into the pouring rain, stopping dead on her tracks when she snapped out of her anger to think for a moment what she was about to do.

But it's too late to turn back now.

She's lost, not in a directional sense, but in a sense that she didn't know what to do next.

Under the shade of the chapel stood Sebastian, squinting his eyes at her and yelling for her to come back inside.

_But why?_

So she stood frozen in place, frozen because the downpour was cold enough to seep through her bones.

When he figured she wouldn't listen to her, he stepped out from under the shade and cursed the rain before walking towards her, his teeth already chattering at the ridiculous coldness of the weather. His white shirt had already stuck to his torso just like his hair to his forehead, his dark jeans getting heavier as he got more soaked.

He was already waterlogged when he reached her, her wedding dress pooling underneath her on the muddy ground, giving its white hue a bit of a dirty color to it. But she seemed to not care.

"Why, Sebastian?" she asked, her voice competing with the noise of the rain.

"Why, you ask?" he replied to her, giving her a confident smile.

Confidence. That's what she gives him. It always resurfaces when she's around and it's now evident why.

"Because you always have something to say," he said, looking at her with his green eyes. "Because you always have me off my guard, you always surprise me, you always…"

He groaned. This was getting cheesier by the moment, but he continued because it's the truth and he could not contain it any longer.

"…you always try to bring me down… and—

"I'm a mess," she said to him, her eyes meeting his. "Why are you doing this?"

"You're a mess? Well, surprise, I am, too," he said, taking a step forward, closer to her. She put her arms around herself as she shivered. "And yes, you're a mess, but you're the most beautiful mess I have never even dreamed of getting myself into.

"And I love that you're smart and witty and loving. I love that you know what you want and you get it. I love that you're willing to stand up for yourself. I love that you're always the unexpected… and I know how much of a fucking cliché this is, but I love you."

"I'm a mess," she repeated as if she hadn't heard what he said. "Why, Seb?"

"There," he said, smiling his crooked smile at her. "The way you call me Seb, it's… it's beautiful. And I don't fucking care if you're a mess. I just want you to know that I love you. And I can't believe how many times I've said this, but I love you and for now it wouldn't matter if you don't love me back, I just want you to know before the pain kicks in.

"Until then, just let me love you."

She met him with silence that's unusually comforting, like something had settled in between them, despite the cold.

She was the one who broke the silence with a smile as she sniffled. "Damn you, Smythe. You didn't tell me you're a romantic," she said, wiping her eyes with her forearm once again.

"I'm not," he replied, taking the necessary step needed to get intimately close but not touching to her. "But you make me one, Lopez."

And just like that, they were kissing. Under the rain. Just after her wedding. His arms surrounded her waist to pull her closer to him—the cold wasn't a problem anymore as a surge of heat dominated both their bodies.

She pulled away when the need for air became demanding. They put their foreheads against each other's as Santana whispered the words that started his heart once again.

"I love you, too… you asshole."

And for once, they didn't care if it's a cliché. They didn't care if this only happened in movies, because they're there and they're in love and nothing mattered anymore.

Later, she would beat him about it and they would bicker about how stupid he looked or how ridiculous she sounded, but it didn't matter anymore.

They would always end up under his sheets, him tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and smiling at her like she's the only woman in this world.

Words: they make their relationship a lot more interesting than it already is, supplying the swords for their battles… but when it comes to intimate moments like these, words just make meaning obsolete. So instead, they resort to silent touches, and kisses, and caresses.

And for once, it wasn't any more For Show.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Months later, after a long ongoing fight about what to wear, or what the theme is, or who to invite, they finally finalized a real wedding—something they thought they wouldn't be able to do.

But with the help of a few of their excited friends (Jackie, Jeff, and Nick), they finally got it done up until the last invitation.

A week before the wedding, Sebastian's father called, informing him about how proud he is of him. He may or may not have answered his father with all the anger he had cooped up inside of him.

"I don't care if you're proud of me," he said on the phone after hearing his father talk about his satisfaction. "This is all mine and you had nothing to do with it whatsoever, so if you wanna be proud of me, be proud of the things that had gotten me on tabloids and gossip articles."

And with that, he hung up.

Santana was there when his dad called and she couldn't be any prouder.

Also, days after her and Sam's wedding, she immediately forwarded the flash drive to Mike and let him take care of it. She attended a few court hearings after that, but let's just say that Amber Amore would not be treated with _amore _anymore, not after being sent to prison with her step-father as they both faced heavy charges of theft and intrusion.

Months after her and Sebastian's wedding, they both received invitations to Sam Evans' wedding to one Quinn Fabray. Turned out they got engaged right after the failed ceremony in front of a McDonald's because the guy could not contain it anymore.

"I don't think I wanna go," he had said.

"You're afraid he's gonna come after your ass with the punch he owes you?" she had replied with a smirk on her beautiful face.

"I… no!" he had countered as he shook his head with a smile.

And they did go, with Sebastian flinching every once in a while whenever Sam lifts his hand and Santana laughing every time he did. But luckily, the reception went well without any unnecessary brawling or whatsoever.

Sebastian took over his dad's company a few weeks after his resignation, turning out to be more than a pretty face as he managed it over twists and turns.

One day, he got a call as he was working, right in the middle of their monthly meeting. It was from home and his secretary had told him it was an urgent emergency so he rushed, leaving the meeting earlier.

When he reached home, he found Santana on the bathroom of the ground floor in a simple gray tank top and white short shorts, looking at something on her palm.

"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping the bag he was holding when he saw her worried face.

Her grip was on the sink, her knuckles white as she gripped on it so hard.

Her wildly brown eyes met his and a smile dominated her face.

"I-I'm pregnant… I'm pregnant, Seb!"

He blinked a couple of times before the information settled on his brain.

_She's pregnant. Santana's pregnant._

_She's with a child._

"You're pregnant? You're—I'm gonna be a dad?" he asked, his tone getting more excited with every word.

She answered him with a small nod.

"I'm gonna be a dad! Oh my God, San! I'm gonna be a father!" he yelled with euphoria as he crushed her inside his embrace, making her wince a little.

He uttered a laughing apology before kissing her hard and square and hugging her again.

"Oh my God," he kept uttering, his eyes tearing up as joy took over him. "We're gonna be parents, San."

"Yes… we are. Yes, we're gonna be parents."

On the 23rd day of July 2013, at 4:30 in the morning, Santana brought into the world a healthy baby boy they named Thomas Gray Smythe, weighing 5.6 pounds.

And two years later, a baby girl was born named Anna Marie Smythe, on the 25th day of March 2015, at 6:00 in the morning, weighing 5.4 pounds.

Who's to say their relationship had gone smoothly after getting married? But that doesn't matter. All that matters is that their family had gone through bumps, twists and turns on the road but never once faltered.

You know how in the movies, the only part where they recognize happiness is at the end? Turns out that life isn't about endings; it's always about the middle and the ups and downs people go through. And happiness isn't always found at the last part, sometimes it's found in the middle of something so chaotic.

A few years later, at the park where they had their first kiss, ran two little kids, a young boy aged ten and a little girl aged eight by then, running around and laughing as they haul handful of sand to each other.

At a bench not far away from the huge sandbox sat Santana Lopez-Smythe and her husband, Sebastian Smythe, both happily watching as their kids played and laughed.

"I just didn't think _this _would happen," she said, looking up at her smiling husband, his hand slowly playing with her fingers.

"Who would have thought, right?" he replied, looking back at her.

"What're we gonna tell them?" she asked, biting her lip. "You know, when they ask about how we met? Because one day, they're gonna start asking…"

Sebastian smiled his crooked grin at her, that smile that made her insides melt even after all this time. "Then we tell them… we tell them about the countless mishaps, the adventures. They're gonna like it. I liked it.

"And of course, we tell them how you were so desperately head-over-heels over me," he said, laughing a bit as Santana made to punch his shoulder but he caught her wrist.

Instead of fighting back, he pulled her wrist and their lips came crashing together. He smiled into the kiss as her hand went to his neck.

But they had to pull away when their kids came running towards them. Her eyes were smiling just like her lips and, God, Sebastian had forgotten how much he loved how her eyes were so expressive.

"Mama," Anna, the little girl, the brown-eyed, dark-haired girl said as she showed her mother the bunch of leaves she had crushed. She was a candid image of her mother that it was still a little surprising to Sebastian. But to be fair, the boy, Gray, was a spitting image of his father, too.

"That's great, sweetie," she said, smiling at the little girl as her brother climbed on Sebastian's lap and showing his hands full with the same thing, too.

She kissed the top of little Anna's forehead before dusting her off of the dirt on her dress.

Gray threw the crushed leaves on Anna's forehead and giggled as the little girl pouted.

"Mama! Gray threw _the rain _on my head! Daddy!" she said, frowning.

"It's raining!" the little boy exclaimed, grinning at both his parents.

"Yes," Sebastian said, but with sternness in his voice. "But it's not right to dirty your sister's head, okay?"

The green-eyed boy pouted for a second before regaining his joyous self.

"I want ice cream!" he exclaimed again, bouncing on his father's lap.

"Me, too!" the little girl joined in, grinning at both of them.

"Okay," Santana said, standing up and dusting the girl again before grabbing her hand as Sebastian and the young boy did the same.

You know, the thing about families is that you never realize how happy it is having a loving one until you notice the little things. Eating ice cream together, going to the park together, walking together—when you notice how everything is done _together, _you realize that you will never be alone.

* * *

**AN: **Well, this is the end. I am so grateful for the support and... yeah, I don't get why I'm so attached to this story, but it has helped me become friends with the most interesting people here on . I just wish this was the ending you all hoped to have happened.

And don't worry, guys! I would still be posting some behind-the-scenes stuff as added bonus.

Read and review, my lovelies. Tell me what y'all think.

Ciao!


	21. BTS: A Letter

Dear Readers,

This is me trying to write a letter to all of you, hoping that this isn't too much of a buzz kill. I just wanted you all to know that even if I'm not keen on replying to all of your reviews that I am in a constant little buzz whenever an old reviewer takes the time to dissect my work and tell me what they think about it or a new reviewer takes time to read and make a note for me.

And hey, I am not only writing this for the 'reviewers' but also to those silent people who prefer to keep their comments exclusive to themselves. The mere fact that I know you're out there appreciating the works I have managed to poop out is a remarkable thing—because you, too, are appreciated.

This idea started out as a one-shot as I was trying to figure my way into this shipping and when the first chapter was done… guess what? I started writing the second one immediately.

I posted the first chapter as I was writing the third and I got such lovely reviews that it kept me writing until I couldn't quite keep my eyes open.

A brief background on what's my inspiration in writing this, to why I wrote this and the people that had given me hope that I would finish the first ever fiction that I ever had the guts to try and finish:

You see, I was never the one to finish what I had started, but when I first watched that 'Smooth Criminal' performance, I totally was in shock at how the chemistry was spilling all over the place. (Shoot me now, I still love it to this day.)

I kinda have this one friend, a guy, who's a total and complete asshole who looks like he's incapable of showing compassion or anything emotional. And yes, he's a _friend _of mine, which was complicated when anyone tries to figure out how we became friends—but yes, he's the Sebastian Smythe in my life and he became the molding of Sebastian Smythe in this story.

He has shown me that even if people curse him for being such a douche, there still is a heart in him that only a few people would feel and understand. It's that story that made me realize that no matter how cold a person is like, no one really could run away from emotions—from love, specifically.

That's exactly how I imagined Sebastian to be if ever they bring him back next season (which would probably be improbable, but whatever… I like to keep my fantasies).

I was at church when I saw this little kid waddling his way towards his parents and right then, the idea had struck and had stuck in my head until I let it out on a Word document when I reached home. I really held onto the idea because I had it all planned out in my head and I can't afford to lose such a brilliant scene.

It was a scene at first… then it branched out and just like that, I was writing the next chapter, and the next, and the next until… yeah, you get my point.

And believe me, I have trouble remembering things (I was even given meds when I was ten to improve my memory, luckily, it did not affect my studies), so for convenience, I asked my little sister to be my _secretary _which means she would jot down my ideas because I was too lazy to do it myself.

I kinda dragged her into this ship and I kinda was responsible for everything else that she had gotten into lately this summer, but yeah, she kinda supplied some of the essential scenes and dialogues in some of the chapters.

_e.g., "Don't get any idea, child. We're only here for business," and many other more._

And then, there's this girl that has been and will always be my best friend (and fellow writer). She isn't into anything Glee, but she had watched the show maybe a couple of times and she's fond of Sam and Quinn (so, surprise, you now know why I put Sam and Quinn together in here), and she had been ecstatic when I told her that I reached over a hundred reviews that she started checking my fiction out.

So, to give y'all a head start—

Next posting will be the cut ending which I had written days before I wrote 'Like a Cigarette'. I will post it for all of you guys, it's got a different vibe than the rest of the story so I wrote it out, but I guess it will make sense if I explain it to you before anything else before posting.

Then, the next after that is the reason behind the chapter names. Some of them are obvious, but some are inside 'jokes' or some deeper shit that had gone through my mind as I was writing them.

So you get to know why and how they came to be.

So, to those who got bored reading the first paragraph of this letter, haha, well. They wouldn't know what's supposedly in for them.

To those who stuck until the last word, well, hello. You're gonna be getting a lot more than what you've asked. This letter will be published the same day the cut ending will be posted.

Ciao!


	22. BTS: The Ending that Should Have Been

**AN: **So, generally, this was the supposed ending. Which meant the story should not have gone for more than fifteen chapters.

This was supposed to happen at the funeral or at some reception. It branched out of my mind and it started writing itself, so I was kinda disappointed it didn't go as planned because this might just be one of the most brilliant writing I have ever done-and that's coming from a self-deprecating person.

I am posting this as it is, pure and unedited. So, I'm very sorry if it has a lot of mistakes.

This is for all of you, lovelies!

* * *

He found himself being dragged into a closet down the hall by a very agile Amber and he couldn't really do anything about it because his drunken mind wasn't functioning properly. He felt the world slipping into a mush, but he could see her brown waves bouncing around on her back as she jogged and tried to keep her force on his arm.

She kept mumbling something about not knowing something, but as mentioned, his brain wasn't properly functioning.

Finally, the nails digging through his skin was not there anymore, and nor the light because when he tried focusing on anything, he was met with a dim surrounding.

_I'm in a closet._

Exactly.

The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the wall by a surprisingly strong force. He kept his breathing deep so that he could at least concentrate on who exactly was pinning him—it was Amber, of course.

There was fire in her eyes like she had been so furious that she could scald him with her stare.

"We both know you're bluffing," she said as a hiss escaped her lips. "Tell me. Tell me you're lying when you said that. I know you well, Smythe."

All he could think of was, "What're you talking about?"

It came out slurred and beyond recognition, but he was perplexed that she heard it clear.

"You didn't just say to the crowd that you _love _her," she replied, her tone getting higher than the usual. "Because we both know you don't, right? You're doing this for the money."

A bitter laugh escaped her throat like a croak and he cocked his head, his eyes narrowed, because this was not the Amber he knew. He knew a sweet one with a mild demeanor that he was once too scared to touch her because she might break. This one, the present one, has a dark feel wrapping around her unlike before.

"You don't like her," she continued, keeping the pressure on his shoulders to keep him from doing anything, although she knew he was too drunk to fight back. "She's just someone you have to get through with to get your daddy's pride all over on you."

Now that hurt. He looked at her, daggers in his eyes. His mouth opened slightly, trying to form legitimate words, but the only feeling he could feel was the sting of tears from his eyes. He wasn't crying, God no, but he was just taken aback. What happened to the Amber he had met just a few hours ago?

And there he was, thinking she was the same, if not better than before.

"How can you stand doing this?" she spat, her face inching closer. "That's not you, Seb. You should fight back."

Finally, he found his voice.

"Maybe I need to fight back when there's something to fight," he said, the slur from the alcohol absent from his tone. It was clear as he said it to her face. Her eyes narrowed even more at this, not really understanding what he meant.

What he didn't realize was the way her breath was fanning across his skin, the way her eyes met his in a way that could have made him melt right in front of her if she had given it to him a few years ago. Right then, he wasn't so sure if the pit in his stomach was romantically induced or just in pure disgust because it felt nothing but wrong.

"You're making a mistake—

"—what if I am? What if I'm not? The bottom line is it's my life and you have nothing to do with it," he said, a furious look on his face. "Maybe you have, a few years ago, but you disappeared from my life, remember? You walked away from me the time I needed you the most. My _life _isn't your business anymore!"

He stared at her, anger and pure fury on his face that dominated his eyes. It was the angriest he had been since…well, since they last saw each other. Now, he didn't doubt it anymore when he thought the pit in his stomach was out of disgust. He could see nothing but a monster in the form of a beautiful woman in front of him.

The weight has lifted and he was released, but they stayed locked in their stares. She looked angry too, but not as angry as him.

"I don't want to make a fuss," he said, looking at the door which was slightly ajar. "Let's just—just go back."

She quickly turned on her heel and headed for the door. It wasn't until they were completely out that he spotted Santana walking their way. Upon seeing that they were together, she stopped dead on her tracks, a somehow surprised expression on her face.

That was when he felt a fist on his collar and the next thing he knew, Amber's lips were on his and they were kissing. His brain decided to malfunction at that very moment because he was petrified on that place as if time had stopped.

His heartbeat quickened and that was when he pulled away because—

"Santana!"

Too late, though, as he chased her down the hallway because he had to explain everything. And yes, he was aware that he had left Amber on her own because he really couldn't care less about her or her plans. She's nothing to him now. What matters most at that very moment was Santana.

Those feet didn't carry her far because he caught up with her just when she was about to round a corner. He grabbed her arm with just enough strength for her to stop and look at him with those eyes that never lost their venom. He winced internally as he felt the sharp daggers pierce through his heart from those eyes.

It spooked him how physical it felt.

If he could describe Santana, it would be everything but one. She wasn't capable of hiding her emotions through those dark brown orbs. It gave away too much. And right then, she was hurt and he didn't know why exactly, though he could feel the answer coming his way nevertheless.

"It wasn't what it looked like," he said, surveying her stone cold expression. But really, her eyes gave away her emotions.

"I don't need your explanation, _Smythe_," she spat with as much venom as she could because she couldn't let him in again. "We don't care about each other, right?"

He wasn't going to agree to that, no. Not anymore; not when he had figured out why he punched Sam Evans in the face, or why he kept it a secret from her, or why he wanted to stay with her every night of her grandfather's funeral, or why he wanted to kiss her all the time.

He figured he was in love with her—and not because she's pretty or that she's incredibly sexy—it's because she's challenging and unpredictable and she's beautiful even when she's crying. Her face and her seductive traits were just added bonus.

"No," he said, but he was surprised how weak it sounded.

"Excuse me?"

"That's not true," he said, swallowing his pride. Because if not now, then not ever. "I care about you—," he interrupted her before she could say anything—"And not because we had to do it in front of crowds or cameras. I care about you because… you're beautiful."

"All you care about are looks," she said, but it came out weak, too.

He shook his head with a sincere expression on his face. "You're beautiful in the sense that you look pretty even when you cry or even without makeup. You're beautiful because you're strong and you challenge me like no one else could. We're both broken—maybe that's why I'm in love with you—

"Excuse me?" she asked although he knew too well that she heard what he said.

"You heard me."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"You're just doing this because you think it will lift my moods—but whatever this is, it should not affect me."

His mouth slightly opened in disbelief. How could she not see that he's as genuine as leather?

"Did you know why I punched Sam Evans?"

Her eyes were suddenly fixed on his as if his question had offended her, and maybe it did.

"_Don't_," she snapped. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Listen to me, Santana!" he said, turning her face around with his hands as she looked away. "I was angry because he cheated on you. I know I should've told you earlier, but I know you wouldn't listen… like you're doing now. I need you to listen…" he paused to breathe because if he didn't, he would totally black out on her right then. "…I need you."

He watched as her expression softened and it made his heart flutter because for the nth time, she's finally listening to him even if she didn't want it.

"You're lying."

"Tell me I'm lying after," he said and then lowered his face to catch her lips in his. He didn't even need to tell himself to feel it, he just felt his skin scorch like fire and his stomach turn into tight knots. His heartbeat skyrocketed when she moved to deepen the kiss. The way he dragged his tongue along the seam of her lips elicited the most sensual sound he had ever heard from her.

That kiss wasn't for show and she was sure of it. That's why she pulled away—because she was scared of it. Pursing her lips, she didn't know what brought her to look into those deep green eyes again.

"Tell me I'm lying," he whispered coarsely, his breath on her face. The way he said it was breathless but urging and it could have just been the sexiest thing.

She couldn't answer that, not when she's afraid because it was real. She felt it, too, and she couldn't be fooled. All she wanted to do right at that moment was to push him and run and never return to those green eyes again because it trapped her.

She shook her head because at that moment, it was the only response she could give. How could she answer when he literally took the breath away from her lungs?

"I…can't tell you to…love me," he said, trying to catch his own breath, but he looked at her eyes with such gentleness that she felt her heart trip. "And I don't care if you don't…although I know it would probably hurt me…just…I want you to believe me when I say I love you."

He couldn't help but laugh at himself, but it wasn't a condescending laugh, nor a bitter one. It was one of amusement.

She shot him a look of confusion. "What?"

"I can't believe I said that," he said, running a hand through his already messed up hair. But really, who could take away their eyes from this woman? "Just months ago, I would've jumped off Potomac rather than say that—I… love you. That's it."

How could he laugh at this? Couldn't he see that whatever 'performance' they were staging had ended days ago and that if this was some kind of joke, it isn't funny? Couldn't he see that he's confusing her more now than ever?

Because there was something genuine in his eyes and they don't do genuine, not ever. Acting was what they do best, especially when there are cameras around; but this wasn't a public place, there is no one around.

She felt his hands slowly snaking around her waist, pulling her closer and—see, this was his power over her. When he touches her like that, she goes paralyzed and her mind could only scream because her mouth couldn't. She didn't mean it, but her eyes which were connected to his emerald ones had fell to his lips and then her heart jumped.

Now, their bodies had collided and she felt her stomach erupt with a funny feeling that she had felt the first time they kissed on that bench in that park. Their lips had met after that, all for show and one for a drunken evening, but every single one of them gave her this strange sensation that she couldn't explain.

Her back connected with the wall behind her, but this force wasn't bruising, it was gentle.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he inched closer to her face, giving her the option of pushing him away or letting him. But really, had she not admitted to herself countless of times the intoxicating power he has over her? But she had the little strength to say something.

"You're drunk."

He smiled at this, and she never realized how a true smile like that from him made him look like a happy person, someone unbroken. He should smile like that more often.

"I wouldn't have had the strength to say that if I'm sober," he said, licking his lips and looking at her red ones. For once, she wasn't wearing any makeup which made her more beautiful, in his opinion.

Her palms spread out on his chest, but it looked like it was subconsciously done because she was still confused; he could see it in her eyes. Her brows were furrowed and her lips were curved slightly to a frown.

That was when he moved and closed the remaining distance of their lips, moving against her gently. As if their bodies weren't connected already, he pulled her closer because there was an insatiable feeling that he couldn't shake; as if he wanted to hold her like this until he couldn't breathe anymore, as if she was his life and if she lets go, he'd be better off dead.

His tongue caressed hers, sweeping through the warm cavern of her mouth.

She moaned in undeniable pleasure at how talented that tongue is and—she felt something with the way he cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer. Her hands found his brown locks, finding rest grasping it without brutality.

How could she describe this kiss? By sight? Because her eyes instinctively closed as his lips met hers and nothing but specks of light could be seen. By touch? His hands on her cheeks gave her a feeling of security that she had never felt with Sam. By taste? Because his taste was of vodka and something sweet, but it wasn't responsible for the turmoil in her abdomen.

And it scared her. It was inevitable because—because there was Amber and she very well knew how this wasn't as real as she wanted it to be. Amber was so much better than her. Would he really spend his time with her and just forget about the first girl he had ever loved? She guessed not, and this was all a drunken spur of the moment that had nothing to do with anything real like… love.

So, she pushed his chest away, leaving him with his face contorted in heart-breaking disappointment that pinched a part of her nonexistent soul. She could only purse her lips before running away down the hall and out of the building. If there were following footsteps, she didn't hear it, but as soon as she set foot outside and into the heavy downpour, he was already calling out her name.

And—for God's sakes, it made her heart ache because the way he said her name was like he was pleading for his own life. She was already in the middle of the open parking lot, drowning in the rain, but she stopped because she couldn't move anymore.

Sebastian sighed, letting the water soak him and his weariness. The effects of his alcohol consumption had already thinned out to almost nothing but just a little bit of a buzz, but he was still aware that he was in the real world and that the kiss had scared the shit out of Santana. He watched as she paused.

His feet had already carried him to her against his own will, trying to bring her back to him by wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his nose against her neck. She was stiff as stone, but he didn't care. He wanted her back, to let her know that it's all real.

"Santana," he whispered, his hot breath against her cold neck. Rain was making him colder, but he didn't care. "San, please… please."

He didn't even know she was crying because the rain had masked her tears, if it really wasn't for the small noise she made that clued him in. His embrace tightened enough to let her feel his presence, but it wasn't enough to convince her.

"People… people always lie to me," she sniffed, her voice thick with tears.

He shook his head lightly against her shoulders, "Let me _not _lie to you."

He walked around her, not letting his arms leave her sides because he didn't want to lose touch of her. His head was aching now; the cold seeping into his head. When he was finally face to face with her, he could finally see what the crying had done to her. She was biting her trembling lower lip in hopes that it would stop, her eyes were focused on the ground and she was frozen in place.

He could not help but let a small smile dominate his lips. He didn't want to look like he was taking it as a joke, but he rarely sees her like this and he should admit, the rain on her hair, the way it made her look like she was in her simplest form, it was all rare and beautiful.

"Why are you laughing?" she asked, meeting his gaze. He didn't even know that, but a little laugh had really just left his mouth.

He shook his head, "Who knew rain could make you look like a drenched rag?"

She opened her mouth a little, looking offended. "As if looking like a soaked rat was better!"

That was it, that was the Santana he knew. There she was again, insulting him like he's a never ending cycle of constant retorts because she always had something up her sleeve to tackle him with. Had he tired himself of this? The simple answer is no. Had he really grown to love this? Yes, and he doesn't think he could ever live without it anymore.


End file.
